


If At First You Don't Succeed (Destroy All Evidence That You Ever Tried)

by justkeeponwriting



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biphobia, Bottom Dean, Community: deancasbigbang, Dean has a Panty Kink, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, Dirty Talk, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Panty Kink, Phone Sex, Pining, Rimming, Sexting, Sub Dean, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:06:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 48,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4903162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkeeponwriting/pseuds/justkeeponwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Three days, Cas,” Dean groaned. “You’re not going to call her tomorrow and scare her off, like you always do! Or worse, tonight! That has ‘creeper’ written all over it.”</p><p>Or, the one where Dean pretends to be a woman who likes to text Cas in order to teach him a lesson, and finds that he’s way in over his head. (Inspired by How I Met Your Mother's episode 4x21, "The Three Days Rule".)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy. This project was a wild ride from start to finish, and I’m just glad to finally post this. The idea for this fic is shamelessly ripped from _How I Met Your Mother’_ s episode 4x21, “The Three Days Rule”, although I took this fic down a very different road than the episode did. This isn’t meant to be a full-fledged HIMYM AU, but there are some nods towards the show for those who want to find them.
> 
> Humongous thanks to my awesome artist [queeniebroccolini](http://queeniebroccolini.tumblr.com)/[asylumbound360](http://asylumbound360.livejournal.com), whose art is simply gorgeous, and who I can’t thank enough for picking and illustrating my silly story – everyone, please like/reblog it [here](http://queeniebroccolini.tumblr.com/post/130851214367/theyd-met-at-college-during-their-first-year) and [here](http://queeniebroccolini.tumblr.com/post/130851431627/dean-walked-to-his-bedroom-and-stood-in-front-of), or view the art [at LJ](http://asylumbound360.livejournal.com/3944.html)! And, of course, a huge thank you to my beta [catarinabennett](http://catarinabennett.tumblr.com), who took this challenge head on, even with very little time. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Lastly, I made a playlist of the songs I listened while I wrote the story, and it’s right [here](http://8tracks.com/justkeeponwriting/if-at-first-you-don-t-succeed). The songs do follow the storyline, as cheesy as they are. If nothing else, you can laugh at my taste.
> 
> I'm on tumblr, [here](http://justkeeponwriting.tumblr.com) or [here](http://helakkas.tumblr.com), if you wanna message me! Hope you'll like this!

“She looks hot,” Dean remarked.

Everyone else in the table stilled, and then three things happened simultaneously: Charlie laughed, Sam and Sarah did that unnerving, couple-coordinated sigh, and Castiel glanced at where Dean was looking at. This was how it usually went, and so it had become like a choreographed dance at this point. Their get-togethers at Roadhouse Bar & Grill had followed the same schedule for so long that every minute could’ve been written down, and there wouldn’t have been much variation. Dean checking out the women who lounged by the bar counter was perhaps a little earlier than in the usual schedule, but not by much.

Every Friday, their weird little group met up for drinks, and for the first fifteen minutes, Sam would complain about his job. Sam was a lawyer, and while he loved his work, the firm was his first job after college and he despised some of the cases he was assigned to – when he’d graduated, he hadn’t thought that his job would include telling his clients that it was illegal to build a gazebo on your neighbor’s backyard, even if you had already paid for the pile-driving. Sarah would calm her husband down, and then tell the group some funny anecdote about her customers – she worked as an art dealer and was used to rich old clients who made ludicrous demands, like wanting to buy an authentic Van Gogh painting within a week. Charlie would absolutely decline to tell anything about her job at the FBI (at least, that’s where the others assumed she worked at – she simply said, “Please. If I told you, I’d be forced to kill you,” when asked about her work). Finally, Castiel would lament over his high school students and their disinterest in modern American literature. Because Dean’s job was repetitive, boring and the very definition of uninteresting, he almost never talked about that, but rather, would comment on everything the others said. During regular intervals, Dean would interject with his remarks that usually made others laugh, or, if they were the other kind, do the multi-person equivalent of face palm.

“I was in the middle of a story, Dean,” Sam said. “Would it kill you to listen, for once?”

Sarah was the only one who paid attention to Sam’s distress – she patted her husband gently on the forearm – because Charlie instantly nudged Dean and said, “Doesn’t look like your usual type. Too feisty.”

“One, my type is, ‘has boobs,’” Dean scoffed, “and two, I wasn’t looking for me, I was looking for Cas.”

Castiel, who was sitting across the booth from Dean, stiffened. His hold on his beer bottle’s neck tightened, until it looked like Cas was trying to strangle the poor bottle.

“I don’t need your help, Dean.”

“Bullshit,” Dean said. “When was the last time you talked to a woman without getting a drink thrown on your face?”

Sam snickered in spite of himself – he was still annoyed at Dean for interrupting his story, and he sympathized with Cas, but the way Dean said that was too funny to resist. Sarah and Charlie both gave Dean a disapproving glance.

“I talk to plenty of people, regularly,” Cas said, still working on strangling his beer bottle. At least he wasn’t fiddling with his striped tie – that always looked ridiculous to Dean. “Including women.”

“I meant with a _certain_ intent,” Dean said. “As in, ‘want to fuck in the bathroom?’ intent.”

“You’re disgusting, Dean,” Sam said.

“Also, I’m right.”

“I’m sorry, but your track record with relationships really doesn’t give you the right to lecture Cas,” Sarah reminded him.

“I don’t have relationships because I don’t want them.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Charlie said. Sarah raised her brows at Charlie and nodded, as if having the same telepathic conversation for a thousandth time.

“And as I was saying,” Dean said, resolutely ignoring Charlie and leaning over the table towards Cas, “When was the last time you even tried to hit on a woman?”

Castiel avoided Dean’s look, now moving on to pick at the label on his bottle. Charlie shook her head. “Dean, you’re way too invested in Cas’s love life.”

“Amen to that,” Sarah muttered, and Sam smiled at her.

Charlie sighed. “As Castiel’s best friend—”

“I’m Castiel’s best friend,” Dean interjected.

“As Castiel’s best friend,” Charlie continued, “I must advise you to stop. You’re making him uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay, Charlie,” Cas said, shaking his head.

Dean rolled his eyes: the others were being too nice to Cas, as usual. But, then again, everyone else had met Cas through Dean, and hadn’t been there for those horrifying four years of college, when Dean had witnessed Cas crash and burn way too many times. They probably thought that Dean was exaggerating when he needled Cas about his abysmal ways of opening a conversation, but it wasn’t a joke when he reminded Cas that listing bee facts when you were nervous wasn’t going to solve the problem.

Castiel could deny it all he wanted, but the truth was, he was horrible with women, or with people in general. He couldn’t flirt for the life of him, and was just on the wrong side of awkward for most, landing on ‘creep’ during the first two minutes. Even if he was over thirty, it seemed that when he had to talk to new people, he shrunk right down to being twelve years old again. His only saving grace were his looks – not that Dean noticed it, but judging by the amount of women who endured those awkward minutes of talking with Cas before inevitably walking away, only did it because Castiel was, to quote (a very drunk) Sarah, “hot as hell.” That was a shame, though, because when you got to know him, Cas was funny, intelligent and adorable – actually, downright hilarious, Dean thought. The problem was that most people didn’t give him the time of the day, because he was awful at first impressions, and inevitably screwed up even when he’d managed to talk to someone for more than two minutes and let his more adorable side show. Dean had only broken through Castiel’s defenses by sheer luck and by being baked when they’d first met.

They’d met at college during their first year, when they’d been assigned to be roommates. Dean, being away from home from the first time in his life and nervous about meeting new people (though he never would’ve admitted that), had smoked a joint before literally crashing through the dorm door and right into Castiel’s lap.

“Hi,” Dean had said. “Is… is this 189? I’m Dean.”

“Dean?” Castiel had asked, a mixture of frown and confusion on his face.

“Better than the dean himself,” Dean had giggled, still sitting on Castiel’s lap.

“I’m Castiel,” Castiel had said, discreetly trying to push Dean off of him. It hadn’t been very successful, because Dean had clung to Castiel’s hands.

“What, did your parents hate you or something?” Dean had said. “You… you should’ve been named something awesome instead.”

“Angels are warriors of God. I doubt a name could get more ‘awesome’ than that.”

“You’re weird,” Dean had said.

“Likewise.”

After a few more confusing minutes, Dean had finally gotten up and had taken a long look at Castiel’s thick-rimmed glasses, messy hair and confused eyes, and shook his head. He had thrown a hand over Castiel’s shoulder, and given him a one-armed hug.

“Cas, I’m gonna teach you how to live,” Dean had declared, nearly crushing Cas as he had held the reluctant roommate against his side.

“Who are you again?” Castiel had asked.

The thick-rimmed glasses were gone now (shame, too – they made Cas look even more handsome than he usually was), but the nervous demeanor around women hadn’t changed the slightest in the fifteen years that they’d known each other. Whereas Dean had jumped from bed to bed and relationship to relationship, Cas had barely managed to maintain his friendships. Getting to know Sam had been easy, as Sam was Dean’s brother and had been there from almost the beginning, but Cas had had trouble connecting with Sarah at first – even if Sarah was the gentlest creature on earth, and nowadays, one of his closest friends.

On the other hand, Cas and Charlie had clicked the minute they’d met. Charlie had joined their odd group like she did almost everything – by simply appearing and refusing to go away before she got her way, and if her way happened to coincide with what was best for others, well, that was just a lucky accident. Dean had actually talked to Charlie online for a few years during college, but they hadn’t really become friends until they’d met face to face. Charlie had moved to the same city for her job (whatever that was), and had showed up at Dean’s doorstep one day to drag him to a LARP event. Needless to say, she’d been integrated into the group very fast, and had charmed Cas instantly.

“Dean talks so much about you that I already feel like I know you,” she’d said with a wink to Cas the first time they’d met.

“Likewise,” Cas had said.

“Nerds,” Dean had muttered.

But, besides the very few exceptions, Cas had real trouble talking to new people – let alone starting a relationship. Dean had known him for fifteen years, and during that time, Cas hadn’t dated anyone. He’d been on a few dates, but it always went up in flames sooner than later. (So did Dean’s “relationships”, but as he’d declared, he didn’t even want a relationship. Especially after what had happened with Lisa.)

“I’m just trying to look out for you, buddy,” Dean said, trying to coax Cas out of torturing the beer bottle. “Go talk to her!”

“Just ignore him,” Charlie sighed.

Cas turned discreetly around in the booth and glanced again at the counter. The woman was still sitting there, elegantly holding her drink. Her dark brown hair was covering most of her face, but from what Dean saw, she had a nice, curvy body, and her body language told that she wasn’t going to blow off suitors – at least not right away.

“I’m going to talk to her,” Cas announced. He took his phone from the pile in the middle of the table, and stood up. As he got up, there was a slight tremor in his hands, but everyone politely pretended not to see that.

“Atta boy!” Dean said. “Just pretend you’re talking to me and you’re golden.”

“Absolutely not,” Cas said. “I don’t want to get slapped.”

“Harsh,” Dean said, but he was smiling.

Cas squared his shoulders and walked to the counter, where the brunette was sipping her cocktail. Four pair of eyes keenly watched as Cas made his way to her, and from the way he didn’t get a drink thrown in his face during the first ten seconds, it looked like it was going to turn out okay.

“Dean, you seriously need another hobby, other than trying to get Cas laid,” Charlie said, shaking her head.

“The day he can do that himself, I promise to take up crocheting,” Dean said. “That is to say, never.”

“Now there’s a bet,” Charlie said. “The day Cas enters a relationship, you take up crocheting. For at least half a year.”

“Half a year?” Dean grimaced.

“Any less than that and you won’t learn it,” Charlie said sweetly.

“Your trust in my abilities is touching.”

“Crocheting might actually do you good,” Sarah remarked. “It’s very calming.”

“Ugh, fine. Where do I sign?”

Charlie laughed. “Sam and Sarah will be our witnesses.”

“I would refuse to take part in this, but on the off-chance I ever get to see Dean crocheting, I’m going to accept,” Sam said.

“You’re a menace, woman.” Dean smiled at Charlie. “What is it that you do, again? Work at the KGB?”

“Please,” Charlie said. “And what is it that you actually do, handmaiden?”

“Handmaiden? Is that what you are?” Sam asked, but no one paid attention to him. (As if Dean would tell Sam about he and Charlie’s adventures in LARPing in detail – Dean had heard enough puns and mocking to last a lifetime when he’d let it slip that he’d gone to a Star Wars convention with Charlie last year. “You’re too old to be playing make-believe, Dean,” Sam had laughed. Dean loved his brother, but at that moment, he’d very much resented that the force wasn’t a real thing and he couldn’t make Sam choke with his mind.)

“You know what I do, I work at marketing in Sandover, and it’s the most boring job on the planet,” Dean said. “Your work, on the other hand, remains shrouded in mystery.”

“Just as I prefer,” Charlie quipped.

“Is Cas still talking to that lady?” Sarah asked. “Wow, that’s impressive. They must’ve really hit off.”

“Huh,” Sam said. “Guess he finally found someone who finds his awkwardness adorable.”

“It _is_ adorable,” Dean insisted. The others exchanged an exasperated look, but Dean ignored that.

“It’s almost seven. We’d better get going,” Sarah said.

“It’s still early!” Dean remarked.

“You’re going to that charity dinner, right?” Charlie asked.

Dean had forgotten about that; one of Sarah’s clients had demanded that she and her husband attend a charity dinner the client was hosting tonight. Apparently, there were going to be a lot of art collectors present, which meant potential clients and connections for Sarah, besides a gourmet meal.

“We need to make an appearance, at least,” Sam said. “Wonderful. A whole night of talking with bigoted rich old men.”

“Be nice,” Sarah said.

“Yeah, Sam,” Dean said. “How’s that any different from your daily job?”

“Sarah’s father is going to be there,” Sam said.

Dean winced in sympathy. Despite the fact that Sam and Sarah had been together for seven years now, out of which they’d been married for two, Sarah’s father, Daniel Blake, had never warmed up to Sam. It was odd: Sam Winchester was a lawyer with a bright future ahead of him, a nice guy to boot, and yet, Blake still saw him as the shady college student whose first serious girlfriend had died in a “suspicious condition”, as Blake liked to word it. In reality, poor Jessica Moore had died in a car crash when she and Sam had been driving to Kansas to meet Sam’s parents. While Sam had been injured badly, he healed – physically, that was. Emotionally, Sam had never really gotten over her death, and even though meeting Sarah had made him better, Sam and Sarah both knew that Jessica would always be an invisible wound that Sam carried with him. In Blake’s mind, though, that translated to Sam not being good enough for his little princess Sarah.

“Dear old father-in-law still hates you?” Charlie asked. Sam nodded.

“My father doesn’t hate you,” Sarah said. “He gave me away at our wedding, remember?”

“If I recall correctly, he tried to talk you out of walking to the altar five minutes before the ceremony.”

“Fine. So he’s… indifferent to you.”

“If you say so, dear,” Sam said, with a little crooked smile.

“Anyway,” Sarah said, “we really should get going.”

Sarah took her and Sam’s phones from the pile in the middle of the table, where they had a habit of putting them. Ages ago, someone had suggested a drinking game: put all the phones in a pile, and whoever checks their phone first, buys a round. Nowadays, no one had to buy a round anymore (it turned out that it was almost physically impossible to not check your phone for an hour, and thus, their livers had started to complain), but the habit of making a stack out of their phones had stuck. Sarah carefully piled up the remaining phones, Dean’s and Charlie’s – they were hilariously different, with colorful stickers decorating every possible inch of Charlie’s bright red phone, while Dean’s black smart phone was devoid of any decorations.

“I think I’m gonna take off shortly, too,” Charlie said. “Need to check up on Moondoor and make some preparations before tomorrow’s epic battle. And, of course, my loyal subjects can’t possibly survive without their queen guiding them.”

“Nerd,” Dean said.

“Says the one who prances around in tights and pretends to be a handmaiden, apparently,” Sam muttered.

“You’re just jealous of our awesome adventures.”

Sam helped Sarah put on her coat and stood up, shrugging his own coat on. “Whatever, jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean replied easily. Charlie frowned at him, and Dean instantly shrunk under that gaze. Ten years of friendship, and a pissed-off Charlie was still something that Dean dreaded – if only because it rarely happened.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“You’d better be,” Charlie said.

“Right, we’re taking off. Call us later and let us know how _that_ —” Sam nodded at Castiel, who was now leaning surprisingly close to the woman, “goes. See you,” Sam said, and just like always, Sarah added, “Take care.”

“Bye! Have fun!” Charlie waved after the pair. Dean lazily copied her movement, watching as Sam and Sarah made their way out of the bar, saying their goodbyes to Roadhouse’s owner Ellen Harvelle as they went.

Dean wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but as he watched how Sam’s hand rested on Sarah’s lower back to gently guide her and her hand landed on his arm, like a graceful dance they’d done a thousand times… maybe Dean was a _tiny_ bit jealous. Sam and Sarah had one of those picture perfect love stories, complete with crashing into each other in an art exhibition, cutesy first dates under the stars, proposal during a candlelit dinner, which all had led to a huge white wedding filled with relatives crying from happiness. (Not counting Sarah’s father, of course – he had cried because of frustration.) And it was only a matter of time before they’d start a family of their own; they had hinted at wanting a child for almost a year now. It wasn’t that Dean was jealous of their story, per se – he didn’t think serious relationships were for him, not anymore – but maybe, for once, it’d be nice to have someone like that in his life, someone he could wholly trust.

Charlie tapped his forehead. “Earth to Dean. Look who’s returning from the war!”

Just then, Cas returned to their booth. Dean braced himself for the inevitable – comforting Cas because he’d struck out, so perhaps it was time to have a _Star Wars_ marathon with disgusting amounts of pizza again – but to his surprise, Cas was actually smiling and showing his phone, triumphantly.

“You got her number?” Charlie asked, delighted. Cas nodded. “That’s great!”

“Well, truthfully, it was easier that I imagined.”

“Awesome,” Dean said.

“So, tell us!” Charlie said, ushering Cas to sit down. Cas did, and placed his phone back in the stack as he did, still smiling. “What’s her name, what does she do?”

“Her name is Meg,” Cas started, “and actually, I need to call her soon, because we—”

“Absolutely not,” Dean said.

“But—”

“Cas, have you already forgotten? The three days rule still applies, especially after the Great Meltdown of 2012.”

“She only hung up on Cas and Cas never called her again, that doesn’t make it a ‘great meltdown,’” Charlie mumbled.

“You need to wait for three days before calling, remember?”

“Yes, Dean, but—”

“ _Three_ days, Cas,” Dean groaned. “You’re not going to call her tomorrow and scare her off, like you always do! Or worse, tonight! That has ‘creeper’ written all over it.”

“Whatever you say, Dean,” Castiel sighed. He stood up.

“Where do you think you’re going? This discussion isn’t over yet!”

“I need to pee,” Castiel said, deadpan, and then he simply walked away. Charlie giggled at Dean’s frown, but then stood up, too.

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom before I leave,” she said. “I trust you can keep an eye on our things?”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead, my queen,” Dean said, waving his hand. Charlie ran a hand affectionately through Dean’s hair before she left, smiling.

Dean leant back in the booth and took a gulp from his beer bottle. Cas may have been awkward, but he was also stubborn as a mule, so when he set his mind to something, he never backed down. Dean was fluent enough in ‘Castiel speak’ at this point that he could see that Cas wasn’t going to take his advice. Cas, being the dork that he was, was going to ruin his chances with Meg by being too eager and calling her tomorrow, if not today. That would just lead to awkwardness and Cas screwing things up, like usual, and come Monday, Dean would be lecturing Cas about “not looking like a freak before the first date”, and nothing would ever change.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Dean snatched Castiel’s phone from top of the pile, entering the code (as if he didn’t know Cas’s lock screen code – the dork always used the same numbers, 3326) and quickly scrolled down the contacts. When his fingers hit ‘Meg’, he hesitated only a second before taking his own phone and hastily adding a new contact labeled ‘Meg’ for himself and saving Meg’s number. He wasn’t evil – the whole point of this was to teach Cas a lesson, not to ruin his possible future with Meg. Then, he deleted Meg’s number from Cas’s phone and saved his work phone’s number in its place.

Dean heard the toilet door being opened, and just in time, he shut Castiel’s phone and placed all the phones back in the pile. Hastily, he threw his arms over the backrest and leant back, attempting to look nonchalant. Castiel didn’t even notice anything was amiss; he brushed his hands on his thighs as he sat down, something Dean had recently realized he kept doing and in turn, Dean kept staring at the movement, oddly mesmerized by it. It was a weird habit.

“So, as I was saying,” Dean said, and Castiel sighed.

“Dean,” he said, exasperated.

“You don’t want to repeat what happened with that last girl, right? Getting stood up on a Saturday night? Not cool.”

“She had a dental emergency.”

“That is the oldest excuse in the book. Or, remember what happened before that? That cute redhead with hipster glasses? I thought she’d never stop shouting.”

“Thank you for reminding me about one of the worst nights of my life,” Castiel said.

“My point is, you’re way too intense, and that tends to scare people off.”

“Taking relationship advice from you seems pointless,” Castiel said, squinting his eyes. “Your ‘relationships’ never make it past one night.”

“Hey, I like what I like. You, on the other hand, need a different strategy, if you ever wanna settle down and get married and have three children, and don’t lie to me, I know you do.” Castiel huffed, affirming Dean’s words. “Seriously, you need a strategy, one that doesn’t make you look like a creep. Remember that librarian?”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Charlie returned then, and sighed when she heard the last part of Dean’s sentence. “Oh. We’re still taking a stroll down memory lane in Awfulville?”

“Seems like it,” Castiel said. He shook his head. “Can we not discuss this anymore?”

“Agreed. This topic’s getting stale, anyway,” Charlie said, before Dean could voice his disagreement. “So, Moondoor this weekend! Cas, are you finally ready to have your mind blown?”

“I have papers to grade, unfortunately,” Castiel said. That’s what he said almost every weekend – undoubtedly, it was true about ¼ of the time, but the other ¾ of the time, it was definitely an excuse to stop Charlie and Dean from dragging him down with them to the land of LARPing. One day, they’d get their way, though. Dean was positive Cas would love LARPing, if he just gave it a chance.

“Nerd,” Dean said.

“I suppose you have better things to do on a weekend?” Castiel said.

“I have a hot date with a queen,” Dean said, winking at Charlie. She chuckled. “Beat that.”

“Next time, Charlie,” Castiel said.

“Better keep that promise,” she said, pointing a threatening finger at him. “And with that, I’m off.”

“Me too,” Castiel said.

“Guess that’s the sign for me to leave, too,” Dean said. He glanced at his clock: barely half past seven. This was a short night by all accounts. He drank the last of his beer, and stood up to put on his coat.

“Three day rule,” Dean reminded to Castiel before they parted. “Adhere to it.”

Castiel only sighed. “Whatever you say, Dean,” he said with that tone that meant that he was certainly not going to do whatever Dean said. Annoyed, Dean pursed his lips, but then he calmed himself, because Meg’s real number was burning in his pocket, not Cas’s. He was going to prove Cas wrong.

 

* * *

 

Dean got his point proven faster than he thought. After they’d said their goodbyes at Roadhouse and headed their own ways, Dean had stopped at a convenience store to buy some bread for the next morning, and then went straight home. When he entered his apartment and placed his keys on the table at the hallway, his work phone chimed with a message. Dean quickly put the bread in the pantry and shrugged off his jacket before unlocking his phone – one message from Cas, to his work cell. Dean settled against the kitchen counter to read it.

_Hi Meg! Thought I’d just test if this number actually works. :)_

Dean scoffed. Cas’s insistence on using emoticons might’ve been cute in Dean’s eyes, but most people didn’t share that thought. Meg certainly didn’t seem like a person who’d find that adorable. Actually, she didn’t seem like she’d find anything adorable, so perhaps she was more attracted to Cas’s quiet and authoritative demeanor? Dean could understand that; Cas definitely oozed silent power, whenever he wasn’t gushing over bees or something equally nerdy.

Dean looked at the message again. Seriously, who texted someone they’d just met… an hour and two minutes after they’d parted? He’d already proven his point, that Castiel was way too eager and scared people off because of that, that the three day rule was still golden and Dean was right. If Dean hadn’t intervened, Castiel and Meg’s story would be over faster than you could say “creepy.” Dean thought that he should probably let Cas know that it wasn’t Meg he was texting, berate his friend and then let him have Meg’s real number.

Or, Dean grinned, maybe he could teach Cas a lesson. He had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make Castiel see what the others saw. He could take this one step further and see how Cas would react if _he’d_ be on the receiving end of over-eager messages for once.

Dean was positively giggling when he typed the message and hit send. Only after he’d done that, the reality came crashing down and he panicked.

_Hi, sexy! Def works. How’re you doing? ;)_

Why the hell had he sent Cas that kind of message? He didn’t know Meg, but maybe this was too forward. How would Meg text like, anyway? He should just fess up and apologize. It wasn’t too late to come clean and chalk it up as a joke.

Dean couldn’t come up with any decision before his phone chimed, and he looked down to find that he’d gotten a reply.

_Fine. Though starving._

Dean snorted. Cas hadn’t eaten anything at Roadhouse, yet again, so now he was famished after a busy Friday at the school. And, because he was usually too lazy to cook for himself, he resorted to take-out, unless Dean came over to cook, or he came over to Dean’s and sat in Dean’s kitchen until Dean relented and made something. Dean shook his head; Cas would probably use City Wok down the street again. Dean feared that the owner had Cas’s number on speed-dial at this point.

Chuckling, Dean typed a message.

_Order some chinese_

_Way ahead of you. And how’d you remember that? :D_

Oh, Christ, Cas had already talked to this Meg girl about his unfortunate obsession with Chinese take-out food? Maybe they had connected better than Dean had thought. It was a good thing he’d intervened, because that kind of talk was better received on a second date.

Really, though, he should let Cas know what was going on. Cas would be angry with him, but Dean would just give him Meg’s real number, and they’d laugh about this and forget it, and Cas would hopefully learn something.

Or, Dean grinned, maybe he could indulge in some aggressive flirting. Make Cas _really_ uncomfortable.

_The things I could remember about you ;)_

_That sounds ominous._

Dean laughed out loud.

_I’m not gonna eat your soul or anything_

_Whew, good, I got scared for a sec. :P Besides, No Es Natural already owns my soul._

Dean raised his brows. He didn’t know Cas liked telenovelas, but then again, maybe he was like Dean in this regard. Dean was careful to never utter a word about his obsession around anyone. Being addicted to Venezuelan soap operas was a secret he’d take to the grave. Even Charlie, who regularly dragged him to LARP and Trekkie meetings hadn’t gotten him to admit that, because – well, there was a fine line between geeky and nerdy, and Dean wasn’t about to cross that.

He had no idea what he was on about anymore, because Cas watched telenovelas? That was… kind of awesome, actually.

_You watch that? I do, too! Awesome. I totally didn’t peg you as a No Es Natural nut. Ever watched Niño Bonito?_

_Haha, my secret is out. :D Of course I have, I have it on DVD, actually. My friends would never let me hear the end of this if they knew. >.<_

_You have some sucky friends if they’d laugh at you for that_ , Dean wrote, and didn’t even feel the guilt sneak up on him until after he’d sent the message. He definitely was a sucky friend. A good friend wouldn’t laugh at Castiel’s problems at forming a relationship or pretend to be someone else just to teach him a lesson. A good friend would support Cas without the teasing commentary.

 _But my fav series is definitely Doctor Sexy_ , Dean quickly wrote to quiet his conscience. _Got into it when I wanted to know where Lito Hernandez from Niño Bonito was now, you know?_

_I’ve never seen that. My friend Dean has a crush on one of the actors, though._

Dean blinked. How was he supposed to react to this? Wasn’t it too early for Cas to be talking about his friends with Meg, at this stage? Besides, he didn’t have a crush on—he definitely hadn’t told—how the hell did Cas even _know_ about that? Especially as he’d never even watched _Doctor Sexy, MD_? And Dean certainly hadn’t told Cas about it. Or Charlie. Or anyone.

Or, Dean begrudgingly thought, maybe Cas had noticed that he happened to switch the TV on every single time _Doctor Sexy_ was on. It was nice to have something on in the background as he cooked, Dean always told Cas. Or maybe Cas had noticed that Dean spent a lot more time glancing at the TV than cooking when the show was on. Although he _definitely_ didn’t have a crush on Doctor Sexy. He was just very… nice to look at. Who wouldn’t like to look at that face, or listen to that voice?

Christ, Dean needed to get a grip. And perhaps stop switching the TV on in Cas’s vicinity.

 _Really? Hah! Which one?_ Dean wrote back, because that was what was expected, right?

_Steve Bacic, he’s the main character, I think?_

_Yeah he is._

_What do you think?_

_What?_

_Do you think he’s handsome?_

This is going to be uncomfortable, Dean realized. Quick, think. Think. What would Meg do?

That was no help. Dean didn’t know Meg at all, aside from the fact that she’d given Cas her number, which at least showed good taste.

Better to stick to the truth, right? That was always more believable than outright lies. Besides, Cas didn’t know that it was Dean writing to him. That was the whole point, Dean reminded himself.

 _Oh yeah_ , Dean wrote. _Have you seen that chin? And he looks really good with that stubble, rugged like that. Looks good against the coat._

_You have a thing for stubble, then._

_Guilty. ;)_

_Good thing I don’t like shaving all that much, then?_

Dean flushed. He’d kind of walked into that one, and now there was no getting out.

…What was he on about? This was exactly what he’d set out to prove. Cas got aggressively flirty and scared everyone off. That was exactly what he’d told everyone from the start. This was a point in his favor.

 _Definitely a plus_ , Dean finally wrote. Then he paused. Was that too little? Maybe he should try to be more aggressive, like he’d originally planned?

_You should lose the creeper coat tho. Add a leather jacket and you’ll be irresistible._

_You don’t think I’m irresistible now? D:_

_Well. More irresistible._

_Thank you. That’s a nice compliment coming from you, gorgeous._

_…You think I’m gorgeous?_ Dean typed, with slightly shaking hands. Then he placed the phone on the kitchen counter and took a breath. Surprised, he realized that he’d spent the last half hour texting back and forth with Cas, and he hadn’t even made himself dinner yet. His lower back complained when he shifted his weight and rolled his shoulders; perhaps he should eat something. And perhaps take a moment away from his phone.

With that decided, Dean ignored his work phone for a while. Although he wasn’t that hungry, he hadn’t eaten anything after lunch, so he reheated the lasagna he’d made yesterday, ground Parmesan cheese on it and added a few basil leaves on top, spending an absurdly long time just arranging the leaves. He decided to eat in the living room, and carefully carried his food and a cup of water to the table in front of his two-person couch. Dean had decorated his apartment piece by piece over the years, starting out with an empty flat, and while it was still sparse, nowadays it looked perfect to him; he had everything he needed, and nothing more.

Dean turned the TV on and caught the last minutes of a _Doctor Sexy_ episode, feeling vaguely embarrassed as he watched it. He’d already seen the episode, so he didn’t miss anything crucial, and watched the TV mindlessly when _The Simpsons_ came on. When his work phone finally let out the new text notification sound, Dean resisted for ten long seconds before grabbing the phone from the table and sliding the lock screen open.

_Sorry about the delay. The food arrived, and then I had a small accident with the wontons._

His phone immediately pinged with a new message. _Shouldn’t have probably told you that before picking up where we left off, gorgeous._

Dean chuckled, deciding to let the compliment slide for now. _And I probably shouldn’t have laughed at that mental image :D_

_Glad I could provide a source of entertainment to you._

_Oh, you are. Color me very entertained. ;)_

There was a small pause after that, and Dean watched a few minutes of _The Simpsons_ , before getting antsy. He decided to push a little harder.

 _So what are you doing right now?_ Dean typed, grinning to himself. He could hazard a guess: Cas was probably sitting cross-legged on his own couch, watching some telenovela (previously, he would’ve guessed something artsy or a nature documentary… which Cas provably watched as well) and messily eating Chinese food.

He partly got the answer he expected. The other half had him almost staining his white couch with lasagna.

_Watching No Es Natural. Eating. Thinking of you, gorgeous._

_But I’m right here_ , Dean typed. Then, hesitantly, he added, _What are you thinking about me?_

(What the hell was he doing? This was so cheesy.)

_All the things I’d do to you if you were here, sitting beside me on this couch._

_That was forward._

_I’m sorry. I’ll stop._

(Don’t go there.)

 _Don’t apologize_ , Dean wrote. He thought for a second, and then swallowed. He only hesitated for a second – because this was it, if he did this, he’d definitely prove his point, although at what cost? – but before he even realized he’d made his decision, he was already typing.

(He went there.)

_What would you do to me, if you could?_

A few nerve-wracking minutes passed before his phone chimed, and Dean nearly dropped his phone in his enthusiasm. This was it, he had definite proof about the three day rule, and he could lord it over Cas for all eternity. Then his gleefulness disappeared as he read the message.

 _I’d kiss you_ , the message read. A shiver went up Dean’s spine. _I’d press soft kisses to your lips, to your cheeks, to your nose, and to your neck, trailing lower and lower, if you’d allow it._

Dean swallowed with some difficulty. He ignored the last part and wrote, _What would you do then?_

_I’d touch your chest and let my hands glide down your torso. You’d remove your shirt, and I’d kiss and bite your nipples. Would you like that?_

Jesus Christ, if this was what Cas said to those women who always threw their drinks on his face, they were missing out. Castiel had a dirty mouth, that was for sure, but he knew how to use it.

 _Fuck yes_ , Dean could only type back. There was no answer for a minute, and worried, Dean quickly sent off, _Keep going_.

The answer was almost immediate.

_I’d kneel down before you. I’d touch your thighs, lift them over my shoulders, and slide my hands down. Then I’d open your jeans and lick you through your panties, until you were shaking with want._

“Shit,” Dean said. The word escaped from his mouth simply because he couldn’t contain the weird feeling inside. The problem wasn’t that he was repulsed by the discussion, or that he couldn’t egg Cas on. The problem was that… it was an appealing image. It was _appealing_ to think of Cas, on his knees, some girl’s legs over his shoulders, his strong hands gripping the girl’s thighs, spreading them open… Castiel’s tongue moving against the girl’s panties, massaging and licking her—

Dean very much tried to ignore the hardness in his jeans, and with a determination he didn’t know he possessed, he kept his both hands on his phone. He squirmed a little, sinking lower on the couch, and then an unfortunate image flashed before him: Castiel, kneeling before him, mouth shining with spit and—

Dean gasped, both at the image and at the message that arrived.

_I’d push the panties aside, and then I’d shove two fingers inside of you. I’d lick you as I fuck you with my fingers, using my other hand to play with your nipples. I’d massage you from the inside, fingers moving faster and faster._

_I’m_ , Dean managed to type before he accidentally hit ‘send’. He paused, not even knowing what he would add to that. He was still hard, uncomfortably now, and although his both hands were still shakily on his phone, he’d humped air without meaning to for a few times.

Dean took another deep breath, trying to calm his breathing and still his hips. This was… not happening. No. He was aroused simply because his traitorous body took the mental images to mean that porn was nearby. Porn was the universal language that his body was overly tuned to. He was just reacting like a Pavlov’s dog to sexy images, that was all.

Dean almost managed to resist when a new message arrived.

_Would that be agreeable to you?_

Dean didn’t know whether the sound he let out was a strangled laugh or cry.

 _Yes_ , he answered. Without meaning to, he let his other hand slip away from his phone and placed it over his crotch, rubbing over the bulge a few times to relieve the pressure. It didn’t help; frustrated, Dean opened the zipper with one hand and slipped his hand inside his briefs.

When his hand closed over his cock, he let out a relieved whine. He pumped his cock a few times, mind hazy and thankfully devoid of all images, until a new message arrived. Hand shaking, Dean lifted his phone to read it, his hand still awkwardly working on his cock in the small space inside of his jeans.

_I’d keep fucking you with my fingers, kissing my way up your torso to your chest. Finally, I’d gently bite at your nipples, listening to all the pretty sounds you’d make._

Dean couldn’t even type an answer. His hand kept moving, pressure building up in his body. At this point, he didn’t even care that all he could see was Castiel before him, those gloriously blue eyes staring up at him, pink lips shining with spit.

_Are you close?_

Dean whined, picturing Castiel’s eyes burning as he asked Dean that. With difficulty, Dean wrote, _Very_

_Come for me._

The awful part was – Dean did. His hand kept working over his cock, his breath stuttered, and when he read the command, he saw Castiel’s face looking up at him, and that was it: his whole body seized up and he came all over his hand, lips forming a name but his mind not letting him voice that.

Dean took several moments to catch his breath. He was still clutching his phone with his left hand, so hard that it actually stung, and while he felt dizzy, his mind was whirring.

He’d just gotten off to Castiel. To what Castiel had written, Dean corrected himself. And it had felt… great.

What the hell had just happened?

No, Dean decided. While the endorphins still roamed his brain, Dean resolved to concentrate on the good feeling and leave the inevitable freak-out for later. Right now, he just felt _great_.

 _Jesus Christ,_ Dean could only type. _That was… wow, Cas._

_Did you enjoy that?_

_Very much._

_I’m glad. :)  
_

_…did you enjoy that?_

_Wasn’t it obvious? Absolutely. Though I more enjoyed the fact that you did._

Dean smiled fondly. _You’re a weird one, you know that?_

_It has been said._

_But I like you nonetheless._

_I like you too, Meg._

Dean came down from his high faster and more painfully than when he’d been sixteen and had crashed into a tree while riding a motorcycle for the first time. It felt like his heart had suddenly jumped into his trachea, and it was difficult to breathe for a moment. Dean clutched the phone, the illuminated words on the screen still mocking him.

Dean didn’t know what to answer, so he didn’t. He threw the phone on the couch, stood up with some difficulty, and hobbled to the bathroom to clean up. He wiped the come away from his hand and tried to clean up his briefs and jeans the best he could, before he gave up and undressed, throwing everything into the laundry basket. Feeling vaguely dirty, he took a quick shower, but that only irritated him more; his skin felt like it was on fire, and even the most innocent of touches reminded him of the images Castiel had put into his head. The scratchy washcloth felt very unsatisfying against his skin, and so Dean hurried his shower and came out just as confused and itchy as before.

He dried off and put on his sleeping t-shirt and boxers, and then returned to the living room. The TV was still on, the half-eaten lasagna was on the table and his phone was innocently lying on the couch. Dean sat down carefully, as if the phone was a predator and he was the victim.

“Right,” Dean muttered out loud. He took a breath. “That was a thing that happened.”

He stared at his phone. Maybe he should just come clean, and then proceed to never talk about this to Cas ever, ever, _ever_ again. Or, perhaps they could just laugh about this, add one odd experience to their friendship, and move along.

Dean was still staring at his phone, unable to decide what he should text Cas, when his phone chimed with a new message.

_Ever watched Sentido? It’s on channel 8 rn :)_

Dean chewed on his bottom lip, and then made a decision. He changed to Channel 8 and texted back, _Never watched this. What’s going on?_

Castiel gave him a short description of the series and added his own commentary about what characters were the most interesting to watch, and within half an hour, Dean was hooked. They fell into a long discussion about the series and its social implications, and Dean found himself thinking that this felt natural and easy, before remembering that of course it was natural and easy: Castiel was one of his oldest friends. Although they’d never talked about this particular series or had live-blogging marathons such as this, everything fell into its place and felt organic, because it _was_. Even if Dean was pretending to be someone else, they quickly found a rhythm. It almost felt like they were becoming friends all over again.

At half past twelve, Dean was nodding off in front of his TV, but texts from Cas regularly woke him up. He was tired, because the day had been long, but he didn’t want to go to sleep just yet. Not before Cas, anyway.

Just then, Castiel solved his problem by sending:

_i should go to sleep now >.<_

_What are you, an old man? The night is still young!_ Dean wrote, thinking how Castiel was probably squinting at his phone, because he instantly turned grumpy and annoyed when he was tired.

_neglected my work today so I have to catch up tmrw. :P_

_sorry i caused you to neglect your work_

_don’t be. You’re much more interesting than work, anyway :)_

Dean smiled. _Right back atcha_ , he wrote.

_talk to you later!_

_Good night_ , Dean wrote, smiling.

_good night, gorgeous._

Dean stared at the message for a long, long time.

He should definitely tell Cas. They could still laugh this off and proceed to never speak of this again. Maybe they could even gently tease each other about this, like friends do.

Or, Dean decided, he’d tell Cas tomorrow. Tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean _was_ going to tell Castiel the truth on Saturday, but somewhere along the line, he simply… forgot. Castiel didn’t text him all morning, and no matter how many times Dean checked his work cell, new messages didn’t arrive. Dean started to draft a message some time after eleven, but never got the “hi Cas, guess who this is?” to sound right, so he deleted everything and put his work phone away. After that, he didn’t have time, because at twelve, Charlie came to pick him up, and they headed to a field outside of the city for the epic battle for the crown of Moondoor.

Dean was quiet for the whole afternoon, his mind never straying far from Cas. Although phones weren’t technically allowed in Moondoor, being the queen’s handmaiden had some perks, so Dean got to keep his phone on him. That didn’t improve his mood, though: Castiel never texted “Meg”, or him, anyway.

“Handmaiden,” Charlie asked after Dean had checked his phone for the twentieth time in five minutes, “what is bothering you?”

“Nothing, my queen.”

Charlie regarded him for a while, but then the Shadow Orcs charged at them, and they had other things to worry about.

“If you say so,” she said before leading her troops to a battle. They were victorious, and Charlie got to keep her crown, but Dean’s mind was elsewhere.

Castiel was probably busy grading papers, Dean tried to convince himself. Maybe, for once, his excuse was actually true, and he was sitting at home, legs on his coffee table, reading glasses askew on his nose as he graded the coffee-stained, poor excuses for essays his students had written. Dean had always admired Castiel’s passion for teaching – Dean would’ve lost his patience with wise-ass teenagers in a minute, and somehow, Cas found it interesting to keep teaching the same things to teenagers over and over again. It helped that Castiel had heaps of patience (but even that had its limits, as Dean had discovered the hard way) and had a natural desire to help people learn.

That was something Dean could actually ask him about, Dean realized when he returned home at evening. Get Cas to talk about his profession, ease him into a discussion again. Then get him hot and bothered and _then_ reveal the truth.

…What the fresh hell was he actually doing? He should just stop doing this, Dean thought, staring at his phone.

Or, he raised an eyebrow, maybe he wasn’t just trying hard enough. Maybe Cas really was so kinky that he didn’t realize that normal people didn’t have phone sex during the second time they ever talked. Maybe Dean just needed to go above his call of duty and up the ante to teach Cas a lesson.

Yup, he was definitely going to teach Cas a lesson. Sext him, make him _really_ uncomfortable, and _then_ confess and give him Meg’s real number.

That was a solid plan, Dean decided, before settling down on the couch and opening the TV as a distraction. Then, he opened his work cell and starting to type furiously.

_Hi, sexy. Having a good evening?_

Cas’s answer came back not a minute later, which was a nice surprise.

_Hi, gorgeous. :)_

_Thought you’d gotten bored of me._

_Never. Just been busy today._

Dean still wasn’t that convinced, so he wrote, _So, what’re you doing?_

_Preparing a presentation for a teachers’ conference and grading papers. Bored at both. I’m never assigning The Great Gatsby as a reading material ever again. All answers have been copied almost word for word from Wikipedia or Sparknotes._

_Poor baby. So you’re a teacher?_

_Yes.  
_

Dean hesitated a second, and then texted, _Hot._ He figured that it was better to keep things rooted in reality, again, and although Dean had never confessed it to anyone… He had always had a kink for teachers, and Cas being one didn’t deter him. In fact, even back in college, when he’d heard that Cas wanted to teach literature, he’d instantly pictured Cas in a blue suit, those ridiculous thick-framed glasses falling from his nose and with a cane. Dean had gotten it somewhat right: Cas was fond of dressing in suits and had a ridiculous collection of ties (most of them were Christmas or birthday or “just saw this and thought of you” presents from Dean, actually), but the glasses were gone and Dean doubted anyone used canes in public schools anymore. Despite all of that, even years later, that one image of Cas looking over his glasses and swinging his cane was stuck in Dean’s head.

Dean’s phone buzzed, and he grinned in delight when he read Cas’s answer.

_Is it? ;D_

_Definitely hot. I can’t even count the number of fantasies popping up_

(That was… vaguely true. Well, completely true, although Dean hadn’t pictured Cas in them before. Cas somehow seemed to fit right in there, in his suits and with that voice that would send chills down any insolent teenager’s spine.)

_I’ll keep that in mind. ;) What do you do?_

A chance like that, and Cas didn’t take it – Cas was clearly evading him, Dean huffed. Was he being too subtle? Maybe he needed to push even harder, after yesterday?

Then again, maybe he could segue this into something dirtier. Dean mused about his options, and decided to just answer Cas’s question and go from there. He couldn’t use his actual job title, because Castiel would realize the connection instantly, and he didn’t know a single thing about Meg. But it wasn’t like that had stopped him before.

Again, Dean just decided to stick to the truth. Or at least as close to the truth as he could.

_I’m a kindergarten teacher._

_Wow.  
_

_Surprised? Disappointed?_

_Pleasantly surprised. When did you decide to become a teacher?_

_Kindergarten was the best time of my school years, so. :P Kidding. Sometime after college?_

Dean paused. That was the truth, but he couldn’t say that. Working at Sandover was boring as hell, his boss was an ass and he got no satisfaction out of making unfair deals with the customers, but it paid well, so Dean was stuck. In a perfect world, he’d go back to college and do it all over again, but as it was, he was stuck with his job and up to his neck in loans.

He deleted the last part and just told Cas he’d known since high school.

_I don’t know how you have the patience for that.  
_

Dean snorted. _You’re a teacher, too!_

_I teach literature to teenagers. At least I can have somewhat interesting conversations with them._

_What? Children are hilarious! When they’re not making you want to set the whole world on fire, anyway._

_*snort* Model teacher of the year._

_Like you haven’t ever thought that way of your students._

_Guilty._

Dean chuckled. _Anything you’d like to confess?_

_Let’s just say that there are some people I’d like to bend over my knee and spank._

Dean gulped. Cas could truly shift gears so quickly that Dean fell off the damn conversation. But, then again, that was why Dean was doing this – to prove to Cas that his methods were not working, and Dean was right. So, in the name of proving Cas wrong, Dean was just going to have to… push right back. Be even more inappropriate.

 _Anyone I know?_ Dean wrote, and then spent the next three minutes anxiously waiting for an answer. The TV wasn’t helping: there was nothing interesting on, and Dean spent a few minutes channel-surfing, looking for something interesting to watch, and only found boring-looking movies that failed to divert his attention from his phone.

Finally, his cell pinged, and Dean blinked when he scrolled the message through:

_Well, have you lately done something that you should be punished about?_

Oh holy hell, Dean thought. Jackpot. He thought for a second, and then just wrote, _Maybe ;)_

There was a long silence after that, and momentarily, Dean feared that something had happened to Cas that prevented him from answering – he could still recall with frightening clarity how during their college years, Dean had once found Cas lying on their dorm room floor, blood seeping out of an open wound in his head. The stupid, self-sacrificing idiot had been trying to apologize in his own way to Dean about their earlier fight – they’d argued about the messy state of their room, and what was deemed acceptably clean and what wasn’t. He’d cleaned up their entire dorm, but had knocked down their bookshelf, and the corner of it had hit him in the head. Cas had acted nonchalant during their trip to emergency room, but Dean was still convinced that if he hadn’t found Cas during those three crucial minutes, the next time he would’ve seen Cas, Cas would’ve been in a coffin.

Luckily, Cas’s answer finally came, and Dean surmised that Cas had probably used those five minutes in between to make more tea (as he was prone to drinking more tea than was possibly healthy. Honestly, who drank three pots per day?).

_So, what’re you wearing?_

Dean snorted – that was so unsubtle that it was exactly like Cas. Smiling, he wrote, _What a forward question. I’m scandalized. :P_

 _YOU’RE scandalized?_ Cas countered, and Dean grinned.

_Oh, you know, just lying around in my skirt and bra._

_That’s a nice image._

_What’re you gonna do about it?_

_You saying I should do something about it?_

_Maybe you should_ , Dean texted back. Then he took a long, hard look at his phone and lifted his gaze to the TV that was still playing on the background. Eventually, he muttered out loud, “Why do I keep trying to have sex with Cas?”

This wasn’t the time or place for introspection, though. Something much more important was about to happen.

_Do you still think you need punishing for what you did?_

Dean swallowed with some difficulty. He couldn’t stop picturing Cas in a teacher mode, lecturing some faceless girl in a skimpy outfit how she should pay more attention to her homework. Cas’s eyes would flash with that certain shade of annoyance that always made Dean fear for whatever clever insult would come out of Cas’s mouth next. Cas would stare down at the girl, getting uncomfortably close and personal like he had a bad habit of doing when he was angry, and the faceless girl would take a step back, intimidated and aroused at the same time.

 _Yes_ , Dean finally wrote, regretting that for a second before he got his answer. Then he didn’t have any brainpower left to regret the message.

_I’d like to bend you over my desk, lift your skirt, rip off your panties and spank you until my handprint is etched on your skin._

Dean flushed – Cas couldn’t have known it, but Dean might’ve had a teeny-tiny kink for women’s lingerie. His second girlfriend Rhonda Hurley had once thrown her pink, satin underwear on Dean’s face and asked him to wear it as a joke, but when Dean had obliged, it had became obvious that it was much more than a joke to both of them. Rhonda had gone down on him and made him come all over those panties, and since then, it had become a regular occurrence in their sex life. When they’d broken up a few weeks later, Dean had started his own lingerie collection, stashing the panties in the darkest corner of his drawer. Only a few of his one-night stands or girlfriends had ever known about it, because Dean didn’t know how to break it to people, and ever since he’d broken up with Lisa two years ago, Dean hadn’t dared to indulge in this particular desire.

Just the thought of Cas telling him to wear panties, though… He might start wearing them, just for these occasions. The regular briefs he was wearing now suddenly felt chafing and uncomfortable, and Dean wiggled on the couch until he felt at ease.

Cas’s next message made him startle.

_Would that be agreeable to you?_

Cas probably had that one saved in his auto-correct at this point, Dean thought, hysterically, before sending back an enthusiastic _yes!!!_

It took Cas a few minutes to send anything back, and Dean took that time to get more comfortable, imagining Cas breathing down that random girl’s neck, pushing the girl’s miniskirt out of the way and ripping her blue panties away. He jumped when the next message arrived.

_I’d make you count the spanks, one by one. I’d spank you three times, first your thighs, then three times on your ass; then ten times, alternating between your thighs, your ass and your back, so that you wouldn’t know what to expect. Would you count aloud for me, gorgeous?_

_I don’t know if I can_ , Dean sent back. His breath was coming in short gulps, and he’d wiggled downwards on the couch so that he was barely sitting on it, his zipper pressing unpleasantly against his hard-on.

_I fully trust that you can._

Dean swallowed, and imagined Cas whispering that to the faceless girl, whispering encouragement to her ear while he landed blows to her thighs.

“You’re doing so well, gorgeous,” Cas would whisper in his ear, “count aloud for me.”

Dean blushed furiously, realizing that he’d accidentally placed himself in the girl’s place. Strangely, though, the idea of wearing a skirt and bending over Cas’s work desk didn’t disturb him at all. In fact, it felt… kind of appealing. Maybe even something that Dean wouldn’t have minded doing.

Dean startled when a new message arrived, and opened it with slightly shaky hands.

_After three more blows to your ass, I’d lick your entrance, but not push in; just tiny licks to keep you on edge, making you fuck back against my tongue._

At this point, Dean gave up all pretense and pulled his zipper down with one swift move, hastily pushing his briefs down and wrapping his hand around his cock. His blood was boiling and he was so on edge that he was oozing precome, making a mess as he jerked himself in harsh movements. Soft gasps escaped his lips as he imagined Cas standing behind him, gentle fingers trailing his backside and petting his ass that was glowing with red; pain and pleasure mixed in his head, pinpricks dancing all over his skin. He gasped as he imagined Cas licking him – Christ, that was so _dirty_ – and moved his hand faster and faster, pleasure coursing through his veins.

Dean could hardly see the next messages, and needed to actively focus on the letters before they made sense.

_I’d push your thighs together and keep them closed with my hands, fingers digging into your flesh so hard that they’d leave marks for you to remember. Then, I’d finally open my pants and pull myself out, fucking between your thighs until I’d come all over your pretty little hole._

_Only after that would I turn you around, push your knees up and lick you through the mess, until you’d come just on my tongue._

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dean sighed. His hand kept working faster and faster, and he re-read the line over and over again until he came, come spluttering all over his hand and shirt. Dean gasped for air, his breath stuttering and his gaze swimming all over the place. Finally, Dean’s eyes focused on the TV screen, where a nature documentary was informing him of lions’ mating practice. Combined with the drying come on his hands and the fact that he’d just gotten off to thoughts of Cas spanking him, the whole situation seemed absurd to Dean, and he burst into laughter, wheezing.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean muttered again, when he’d finally calmed down enough. Well, that was a thing that happened. Again. What a weird world they lived in.

Dean grimaced at the come on his hand and on his shirt, and got up and attempted to clean himself up in the kitchen with paper towels as best as he could. There was no point in being thorough – he’d just take a shower before bed, and the shirt would go straight to the laundry basket. When he’d washed his hands, Dean returned to the couch and grabbed his phone. Cas had sent him two additional messages: _How does that sound, gorgeous?_ and _Did you come?_

 _jfc_ , Dean answered.

 _…is that a good reaction?_ Cas’s message came right away, which made Dean smile.

_Very good, you dork. You’ve made a mess of me._

_Good._

Dean hesitated before sending, _Did you enjoy that?_

_Very much. ;)_

Dean smiled at his phone, before snorting at it. This was a déjà vu from yesterday; Cas was apparently weird like that, because once again, Dean hadn’t sent much to him.

 _Is there anything good on TV?_ Dean asked, laying down on the couch and lazily changing channels. He didn’t think he could watch lions mating any longer.

Just like yesterday, Cas suggested a channel, and they watched an action movie together, trading commentary all throughout the movie. Dean teased Cas about his obvious crush on the main actor, and Cas answered with a sharp reminder about Dean’s preferences, and got Dean to admit that _maybe_ the movie was more bearable with such a good-looking guy in the lead role. At least it made the paper thin plot watchable.

After the movie ended, Dean felt sleepy, but he didn’t want to end the discussion, and he definitely didn’t want to fall asleep on Cas. This reminded Dean of their college days; how they’d gone to their beds on the opposite sides of their dorm room, and turned off the lights and attempt to sleep, and then spent hours just softly talking, the darkness making it easier to bring out topics that were unapproachable in daylight. Dean had told about his divorced parents and how hard it had sometimes been to move every two weeks from one house to another, and how he still felt ashamed that he preferred his mother to his dad and hadn’t even wanted to spend any time at dad’s. Castiel had told Dean about his childhood as the youngest of five children and how he’d always felt overshadowed by his brilliant and bright sisters, and how he suddenly missed them fiercely when he couldn’t hide behind them. Even back then, Dean had thought that Cas couldn’t have been more mistaken: Castiel wasn’t overshadowed by his sisters, because he shone brighter than anyone else. He was in a different category than anyone Dean had ever met, and still was.

 _It’s too late for this_ , Cas whined sometime after twelve. Dean smiled at that, and wrote:

_What, are you tired or something?_

Dean grinned at the mental image. Cas turned into the most ridiculous, whiniest person alive when he was tired; a tired Cas meant that he was hell-bent on making everyone else feel as crappy.

His phone screen lit up, and that’s when Dean realized just how dark it had gotten; the only light in the room came from the TV, and the light from his phone starkly contrasted against that.

_Never too tired to talk to you._

Dean involuntarily let out a sound that might’ve been classified as a squeak, and promptly bit his lip to keep quiet. In his defense, the clock was nearing half past twelve – Dean could blame his tiredness and the nighttime for his one-off cameo as a fourteen-year-old talking to her crush.

_Go to sleep, sappy-pants._

_urgh. night gorgeous_

_Good night, grumpy_ , Dean typed, with a small smile on his face. His phone fell on his chest as he yawned, and he thought that maybe he could take a quick nap on the couch before moving to bed, and then promptly fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Dean woke up some time after three, and could barely sleep after that. He brushed his teeth and groggily marched to his bed, but while lying on a soft mattress was better for his back, his brain wouldn’t settle. His mind was whirring, plotting and planning all the things he could get Cas to say and what he should say to Cas, what he could tell Cas, what he could get away with. He vaguely remembered his promise about telling Cas the truth, and drowsily decided to tell Cas in the morning.

He didn’t. Instead, as soon as he had showered, Dean texted _Good morning_ to Cas at ten, figuring that nine hours was an acceptable break before starting a conversation again. It was cute to say “good morning” to someone as soon as you woke up, right? Dean had only once been in a relationship where he simply couldn’t wait until he could talk to the person again – once upon a time, that had been his high school girlfriend Cassie, but that had been before cell phones, so he’d resorted to writing little post-it notes and leaving them to her locker. He decided that “Meg” and Cas were well on their way to that, and hummed as he sent the message.

While waiting for Cas’s answer, Dean puttered around in the kitchen. He made himself coffee – his coffee maker was so old that it barely worked and regularly powered down in the middle of brewing, but Dean was attached to it and the peculiar taste it left in his coffee. It was the first thing he’d bought when he’d gotten his first job and first paycheck at Bobby’s Garage, and it had served him loyally through the years. Cas had hated it, both when they’d shared a dorm room and when they’d shared an apartment for a short while after college, and had refused to drink any coffee made with it. In a way, Dean was to blame for Castiel’s addiction to tea: since Castiel refused to use Dean’s coffee maker and didn’t want to buy his own, he started to drink tea. Slowly, it had become a full-blown obsession with all kinds of tea brands: black, red, green, and even white (which tasted _awful_ to Dean, but who was he to judge). Castiel’s kitchen nowadays was littered with different kinds of tea leaves, boxes of Rooibos and Earl Grey sitting side by side, and no coffee in sight, because there was no space.

Heresy, in Dean’s opinion, but as long as he got to keep his morning coffee, he wasn’t going to complain.

Cas’s answer finally chirped in his phone, and Dean read the answer while leaning against the kitchen counter, a smile on his face. For someone who was so grumpy in the mornings, Cas seemed to be in a good mood.

_Good morning. How’d you sleep? :)_

_Meh_ , Dean answered. Then he added, _Can you technically make an omelet if it’s just eggs?_

 _I believe you’ve just described an omelet._ Dean could picture Cas’s smirk so vividly that he rolled his eyes instinctively.

_Smart-ass. I don’t have any cheese or ham to add to it, so is it an omelet?_

_It’s a poor man’s omelet_

_Funny.  
_

_I try. :)_

Dean carefully set the phone on the kitchen counter as he made himself breakfast, laughing when he saw that Cas had sent a message saying, _At least it’s better than my breakfast. I forgot to go to the store yesterday, so all I have is a suspiciously old box of Kellogg’s._

 _If you die of food poisoning, I’ll be sure to sue them_ , Dean wrote back. He was actually worried when Cas didn’t answer for a few minutes, and then laughed again when he read Cas’s message.

_It wasn’t poisonous, but that was a near thing. I need to go brush my teeth_

Another message arrived before Dean could answer that: _brb going out for brunch_

Dean hummed, and typed, _Want some company?_ Then he abruptly caught himself – what the hell was he doing? His fingers slid clumsily on the screen as erased the message in panic, heart pounding as he triple-checked that he hadn’t sent that. What the fresh hell was he thinking? “Meg” and Cas couldn’t meet, because “Meg” didn’t exist. At least, she didn’t have corporeal form, and before science caught up, Dean couldn’t turn himself into a woman in five seconds.

Instead, Dean gathered himself, and wrote to Cas, _there’s a really good café in the corner of 5 th street, called puzzles._

_I’ve heard of that. A friend recommended it, too. I’ll head there :)_

Dean grinned hesitantly at the message, because he remembered recommending the café to Cas several times. Cas had never just taken up on his offer of going there – some other place had always caught Cas’s eye, or then they’d ended up going to the same coffee shops as always, mostly because Cas took his tea seriously and refused to drink tea that came in bags. (Places that offered brewed tea were surprisingly rare, Dean had found.)

 _Have a good brunch_ , Dean sent to Cas. Though it was stupid, he waited for a few minutes for an answer, and even stupider, checked his personal phone – maybe Cas would be interested in inviting plain old Dean to brunch?

He was still staring at his personal cell when it suddenly rang. Surprised, Dean almost dropped the phone, and enthusiastically, checked the caller. It wasn’t Cas, to his disappointment.

“Sarah?” Dean answered, a bit wary. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to Sarah – his sister-in-law was the nicest person alive and great company, but she was sometimes too sharp for her own good. Dean didn’t know how to act around her so that she wouldn’t realize that Dean had a much more important discussion going.

“Hi, Dean!” Sarah said, graceful and happy, as usual. “I know it’s a bit early, but me and Sam were wondering, do you want to come for dinner tonight?”

Dean snorted with laughter. “You mean, ‘will you come and cook dinner for us’?”

“Guilty,” Sarah admitted. “But I’m sure you’ve some new recipe you’re just dying to try out, right?”

“Manipulation isn’t your usual style, Sarah,” Dean said. He threw a glance at his work cell, laying on the kitchen counter; the screen was glowing, meaning that he’d gotten another message from Cas. Dean hesitated. He didn’t particularly want to leave his apartment, but on the other hand, Sunday dinners with Sam and Sarah were such a usual occurrence that it’d be weird for him to skip it without a proper excuse. “Luckily for you, yes I do, and yes I will come. What time?”

“Whenever you want! We’ll be home all day, so just come over whenever you can.”

“I have some things to do,” Dean said, with an ounce of guilt peppering his voice, “but I’ll be there somewhere after three. Is that okay?”

“Sounds good,” Sarah said. “Sam says hi. He’s washing Bones, and he has three paw prints on his brand-new shirt. Bones went a little crazy on the morning walk.”

Dean laughed at the mental image, and could hear Sam yelling something like “why would you tell him that!” in the background.

“Scratch Bones’s ears for me, will you,” Dean said. “I gotta go now. I’ll see you later.”

“Will do. See you later!”

Dean let out a breath when the call ended, and put his cell on the kitchen table gingerly. He hadn’t had any plans for Sunday, but now that he had… he was a little annoyed. He glanced at the kitchen counter, where his work cell was still glowing with a notification, and despite the temptation, he decided to answer Cas later.

Dean had put off cleaning up his apartment for a few weeks, and with resignation, he got to work. Between sorting his mail, dusting the bookshelf and mopping the floors, he carried on the conversation with Cas, who was giving him a careful description of his brunch. Dean attempted to argue that maybe using Instagram for that would be more efficient, but Cas wouldn’t hear of it, and suddenly, they were in the middle of arguing about the pros and cons of social media. (Dean really needed to teach Cas how to use Instagram – describing the brunch made it lose its appeal.)

It was a confusing afternoon. If nothing else, Dean learned that Cas didn’t see the point of using social media in order to talk to strangers – he saw it as a medium to keep in touch with friends. Dean said that the point of social media was to make new friends, and the argument started again. It was still ongoing when Dean looked at the clock and startled when he saw that it was already half past two. He hadn’t promised to be at Sam and Sarah’s at any specific time, but he didn’t want to arrive any later than he usually would, simply to avoid questions. Dean changed his clothes to something more presentable – a grey t-shirt and green plaid shirt, and the only pair of jeans without any holes in them – and mussed his hair, before grabbing his car keys and leaving.

These weekend dinners had become a fixture in Dean’s life, and he knew that he wouldn’t have to swing by a grocery store, because Sarah and Sam kept their fridge well stocked, but this time, he stopped to buy Parmesan cheese that he knew they wouldn’t have. It was an arrangement that worked, because Dean loved to cook, but since he lived alone, he rarely bothered to prepare any elaborate meals – no point in cooking a feast for one person. So, Sam and Sarah bought the ingredients, and Dean showed up and cooked for them all, and everyone was happy.

Sam and Sarah lived in the suburbs, in a detached house with a neatly mowed lawn and an old oak tree shadowing the house. Sam had been grumbling about the tree for as long as they’d lived there, but it was obvious that he’d never cut it down – Sarah liked it too much, and besides, it added charm to the house, making it look like something out of a fairy tale. Ever since they’d bought the house a year ago, Dean had been expecting Sarah to announce she was pregnant. That hadn’t happened yet, but it was clear that the house was far too big for just the two of them and their Golden Retriever Bones. Furthermore, some of the rooms were still undecorated, as if biding their time. Dean was convinced that the second Sarah got pregnant, Sam would attack with paints and cribs to turn one of the rooms upstairs into a nursery.

Sarah opened the front door and came to the porch when Dean pulled into the driveway. She waved happily when Dean parked and got out of the car. Bones, the three-year-old Golden Retriever, ran out and eagerly jumped against Dean.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean said, crouching to scratch Bones behind his ears. Bones whined with enthusiasm and attempted to lick Dean everywhere he could reach, covering Dean’s hands with spittle.

“Still gross,” Dean muttered. He softly pushed Bones away, but as he made his way to the front door, Bones followed him so closely that the dog was pressed against legs all the time.

Sarah held the door open for him. “Hi, Dean. You’re just on time.”

“Time for what?”

“To witness something amazing. Sam is baking a pie.”

“You’re shitting me,” Dean chuckled. Sam might’ve been sort of a food snob and enjoyed good food, but he was a horrible cook, and even less of a baker. “I’ve gotta see this.”

“I already took pictures,” Sarah said.

Dean went straight to the kitchen, and the first thing he saw was Sam wrestling with a malformed apple pie. There was flour everywhere: on the counter, on Sam’s apron (that was shaped like a cat’s face – it had been Charlie’s housewarming gift for Sarah), and even in Sam’s hair. Dean burst into laughter.

“Looking good, Sammy.”

Sam threw him a nasty look, and turned back to shape the pie. “You try making one of these. It’s surprisingly complicated.”

“You’re just awful at this,” Dean sniggered. “Let me.”

“No—Dean, I can do this myself—”

“Just let me—”

“Give that back to me!”

“Hands off! Ow! Not in the face!”

Bones started to bark, wanting in on the action, and Dean nearly tripped over the dog. The brothers stopped wrestling for the pie when they heard a sound of shutter go off and Sarah’s giggling from the doorway. She lowered her cell phone, grinning. “This is definitely going to the scrapbook. You have flour on your face, Dean.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean muttered. Sam let finally go of the pie, as did Dean, and it stayed on the counter between them. Dean had a floury handprint on his face and on his shirt, and Sam was coughing up flour from his lungs. Fighting over baking techniques, saving pies, the Winchester family business, apparently. At least Sarah was entertained.

“Fine. You can have your disgusting pie,” Dean said. “But I’m making the main course.”

“Whatever, Gordon Ramsay,” Sam said. “And this is my first attempt, so cut me some slack.”

“Never,” Dean grinned. “Alright, alright, we’ll leave you to your pie.”

Bones barked and followed them when Dean and Sarah left Sam to fight with his pie and moved to the living room. Sarah showed Dean some of the recent artworks she’d gotten as a gift, and they both used the opportunity to complain some more about awful clients. At some point, Sarah gestured Dean to follow her upstairs, and curious, Dean walked after her. She led him to one of the empty rooms at the end of the hallway, but when she opened the door, Dean noticed at once that it was no longer empty.

“You’ve made it into a nursery?” Dean asked. The previously empty and white-walled room had now been painted in soft green colors, and there was a crib in the middle of the room and a mobile made out of planes over it. He flashed a huge smile that almost felt like it threatened to split his face – he felt overjoyed. “Am I going to be an uncle?”

“It’s still very hush hush,” Sarah said. “We’re waiting until after the first trimester before we tell everyone else, but…” She smiled, her joy almost spilling over.

“Congratulations,” Dean said. He grabbed Sarah into a hug, and she laughed as he twirled her around. “You’re going to make great parents.”

“Thank you,” she said. Her eyes glimmered. “I’m keeping my fingers crossed that everything goes well. I can’t wait to tell all the others, but… at this stage, I don’t want to jinx it.”

“It’s going to go great,” Dean said. “Before you know it, you’ll be planning the baby shower and can’t stop talking about the baby.”

“About that…”

“Don’t tell me, you’ve already started to plan the baby shower?”

Sarah laughed. “Well… maybe a bit. Just a few ideas, here and there. Nothing concrete so far.”

Dean made a mental note of observing when Sarah would crack and recruit Charlie to help her plan the party. He guessed that that would happen in the next two weeks or so. “If you say so.”

When they returned downstairs, Dean wasted no time and went straight to the kitchen.

“So, I heard someone’s going to be a father,” Dean said, not even bothering to fight off the glee in his voice. Sam had lost the apron and had cleaned up most of flour, but some still lingered on his shirt, and his hair was sticking in every direction. That moment, he looked the adorably young and nothing like a future father.

“Hopefully, yes.”

“Congrats,” Dean said. He nearly crushed Sam with a hug, and Sam answered that with equally crushing force. Sam grinned when they broke apart.

“Well, there’s no question about the parents, but who the uncle will be… that’s a different question.”

“Ha fucking ha.”

“Keep your language in check, there are children present.”

“They haven’t even developed ears yet!”

Dean felt his phone buzz in his pocket then, and it took all of his willpower not to check the message right away. He thought he probably looked like an idiot right then, being so giddy, but so were Sam and Sarah, and he happily listened to their chatter about the baby’s development, how they’d planned and renovated the nursery and how they couldn’t wait to tell everyone else. Dean suspected that their mother already knew – despite living three states away, Mary Winchester was still much more involved with their lives than their dad, who lived in the same area.

With Sam and Sarah immersed in imagining their baby’s future life, Dean dared to check his phone. Cas had sent “Meg” three messages, all of them continuing their argument about Instagram versus Twitter. Dean hadn’t answered to Cas in a while, so he wrote:

_Visiting family. My brother’s being an ass. Sorry about the delay_

It felt awful that Dean couldn’t tell Cas the news – “Meg” announcing that she was going to be an aunt at the same time as Dean told he’d be an uncle would raise some eyebrows. Perhaps he was being overly cautious, but Dean didn’t want to take the risk, no matter how much he wanted to tell Cas about Sarah and Sam’s happiness. Besides, Sam and Sarah should have the honor of delivering the news themselves – it was their moment, after all.

“I guess I’ll go ahead and start cooking,” Dean said, when there was a lull in the conversation. He turned to the kitchen counter, already mentally charting everything he’d need.

“I’ll help,” Sam said, still riding high from his earlier “success” with the pie. It had come out of the oven looking pale, and Dean suspected that it was raw, but he hadn’t wanted to crush Sammy’s enthusiasm.

“Absolutely not.”

“Stop being so stubborn, Dean, you know I—”

“Get out of my kitchen,” Dean said.

“Dean, this is our—”

“While I’m making food for you, it’s my kitchen. Sorry Sammy, I don’t make the rules.”

“You just did,” Sam scoffed. “Fine. Have it your way, MasterChef.”

“Thank you,” Dean said, ignoring the jab. “Go and sit down with your wife and drink all the red wine she can’t.”

“I heard that,” Sarah said from the living room.

“What, it’s true, and you know it.”

Sam shook his head, affectionately, but left Dean to his own devices. Dean wasn’t exaggerating his need to exile Sam from the kitchen; when Dean cooked, he wanted to do everything by himself, because as he’d found, having others help him usually just slowed him down.

Dean got to work, humming as he prepared the Minestrone soup, and he concentrated on that for a good while. When the soup was brewing, he felt confident enough that he could take his phone out and check his messages.

Cas had answered him a while ago: _that’s fine_. _I believe that’s what brothers are for._

Dean snorted, and wrote, _So do you have any family?_ Obviously, he knew that Castiel had four sisters, that his father had left when Cas had been five years old, and that his mother was an evil old crone, to say the least. Dean and Castiel’s mother did _not_ get along; despite Dean having met Naomi Novak for only three times in his life, he had had enough of her to last a lifetime, and he couldn’t help but thank his lucky stars for having a mother like Mary Winchester. How Cas had put up with her growing up, Dean couldn’t understand. At least his sisters were all nice, from what Dean knew.

His phone buzzed with a reply: _4 sisters. Things are weird now though_

_how so?_

It took a minute or two before Cas’s answer arrived, and Dean that moment to check up on the soup and add the kidney beans and pasta to it.

_my sister Anna has been living with a woman for years. Mother has never recognized or even mentioned their relationship, but now that Rachel is getting married, mother suddenly told Rachel not to invite Anna and Ruby to her wedding. Hester’s refusing to take sides, and it’s been strained ever since._

Dean lifted his brows. He was definitely learning new things about Cas through this odd relationship. Cas had never mentioned that before. Dean had met Anna several times, and they still occasionally kept in touch via email and Facebook, but Anna’s sexuality had never come up. Also, there was always something awkward about talking with Anna, because when Dean had visited Cas’s family during Christmas break on third year of college, Dean and Anna had spent one weird night together. They’d proceeded to never talk about it again, because they’d both felt vaguely _wrong_ after it, and the feeling had never fully gone away. Now, he hadn’t seen Anna in a year or two, and had always assumed that Anna’s roommate was just a roommate. Apparently, he’d been wrong about that, and momentarily, he berated himself for missing something so obvious. In hindsight, Anna and Ruby being a couple explained a few things – like the fact that their apartment had two bedrooms, and the other hadn’t looked like it was lived in, when Dean and Cas had visited them two years ago.

Dean quickly typed out his response, still feeling a bit embarrassed that he hadn’t realized such an obvious thing before.

_That’s awful. Your mom sounds like a piece of work  
_

_She has her bad sides, yes._

_Like being homophobic and totally unjustified?_ Dean typed angrily, and before he could stop himself, he’d already sent the text.

_*sigh*_

_Sorry. Not my place._

_It’s okay. My mother is… a complicated person. She’s very set in her ways and dislikes being caught unaware. She’ll come around._

Those weren’t exactly the terms Dean would’ve used to describe Naomi Novak, but he supposed this was a hard subject for Cas. Family was family, after all, despite how shitty.

Cas sent another text then: _Sorry for being a bummer_

_You kinda have a good reason_

_I guess_

_I hope things work out_

_Thanks. And I hope you’re having fun with your brother_

“Dean?” Sarah asked, surprising Dean and making him drop the phone. It clattered on the kitchen floor, but luckily, the screen didn’t seem to crack.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Sarah said. They both reached for Dean’s phone at the same time, and Dean’s heart skipped a beat, but Sarah simply picked the phone up and handed it to Dean. “I just came to put this,” Sarah lifted a glass, “to the dishwasher.”

“Oh.” Dean moved aside to let her open the machine. He held his cell tightly in his sweaty hand, and suddenly, it felt like his phone was broadcasting to the whole world what he was doing.

Sarah glanced at the phone, and then asked, “Isn’t that your work phone?”

“Um.” Dean quickly put the phone into his jeans pocket and brushed his hands on his jeans, subconsciously mimicking what Cas always did. “Yes?”

“Did something happen at work? You don’t usually use your phone on weekends.”

“Uh,” Dean eloquently said. “Nah, nothing major. Just… My boss is being an ass about one project I’m overseeing, and my coworkers are just as tired of him as I am.”

That wasn’t a lie: Zachariah Adler _was_ a pain in everyone’s ass, and had been bugging Dean for as long as Dean had been working at Sandover. Everyone was tired of his horrible managing style and self-righteous personality, but as with most things in life, there was nothing to be done about that. As long as Zachariah stayed on the right side of propriety, even if barely, his bosses and subordinates could do nothing but endure the situation.

“Ugh, he’s still giving you grief?” Sarah asked. “Is this the same boss who made inappropriate comments towards every secretary _and_ you in the Christmas party?”

“Don’t remind me,” Dean groaned. “I’m still paying for the therapy bills.”

Sam stepped into the kitchen, and peeked in the pot before Dean could slap him away.

“It’ll be done soon, hold your horses,” Dean said. His phone buzzed again, and before he could stop himself, he took the phone out and glanced at it – then he realized that Sam and Sarah were both looking at him, expectantly. Dean put the phone away without reading the message.

“It’s nothing important,” Dean muttered.

“And here I thought you were having an office romance,” Sam teased.

“Well, Adler’s secretary isn’t half bad… And she’s always flirting with me. Just last week, she asked me if I needed help with the copy machine.”

“Are you confusing reality with porn again?” Sam asked.

“Shut up,” Dean said. “No one asks that while bending over in a tight skirt like that.”

“Ew, Dean,” Sam said. “Not in front of my wife.”

“Your wife has a dirtier mind than you,” Dean remarked.

“True,” Sarah said, thoughtfully. “So, how soon are we ready to eat? I’m famished.”

“You ate two hours ago,” Sam said.

“I’m eating for two people. I think I can be excused.”

Dean laughed at that, and when the conversation continued and neither Sam nor Sarah made any references to his supposed office romance, he felt at ease again. Just to be cautious, he didn’t text Cas again, even though he could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he concentrated on having a nice, normal dinner.

“Mom’s coming here two weeks from now,” Sam proudly proclaimed at some point.

Dean looked up from his plate, surprised. “She didn’t tell me anything.”

“She called me while you were in the kitchen. I didn’t want to disturb you.” Sam shrugged. “I think she might have a new boyfriend. She sounded like she wants to tell us something.”

“Mom? Dating?” For a second, it seemed like an absurd idea, but then again, Dean still had trouble remembering that his mom was grown woman with her own life. Besides, mom and dad had gotten divorced when Dean had been ten and Sam six, so maybe it was time for Mary Winchester to find someone to share her life with.

Sam hummed. “She didn’t outright say it, but I think she’s got some kind of news, at least.”

“Huh,” Dean said. “She can stay at my place, if you’re busy.”

“Nah, I already offered her our place. Besides, we have a guestroom with an actual bed.”

“I have a perfectly functioning pull-out couch, thanks.”

“It’s not perfect if it ruins your back,” Sam said, and Dean threw a pea at him.

Dean continued to text Cas only when he was back home, after eight in the evening. The dinner with Sarah and Sam had run longer than expected, as always, and especially now that the proud to-be-parents couldn’t stop talking. Dean was happy for them, but by god, if he ever had children, he vowed that he wouldn’t turn as sappy as Sam had.

 _Finally home_ , Dean texted Cas when he had shrugged his jacket off and slumped on the kitchen chair. He debated on whether or not to make some coffee, but then decided against it, because he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he had caffeine now.

 _Exhausting trip?_ Cas asked, and again, Dean felt odd that he couldn’t tell Cas the happy news. He decided to skirt around it.

_Kinda. My brother doesn’t know how to stop talking, esp when he’s happy._

_My sisters have the same vice._

_Yay for happy families, then. :P_

There was a lull in the conversation, and when Cas didn’t answer to him for several minutes, Dean got up and decided to do something productive. He was sorting laundry when Cas finally asked, _Wanna watch a movie?_ and Dean sighed in relief. For a moment, he’d been afraid Cas had forgotten about him. Abandoning the laundry basket, he went to the living room and flopped down on the couch; this was quickly becoming a familiar ritual for them.

_Is there anything on?_

_Die Hard?_

_Why the hell would anyone show Die Hard in July, it’s a Christmas movie_

_That’s what I thought!_

Dean snorted. He flipped the channels, trying to find something worth watching, and settled on a cheesy-looking comedy.

 _so no to that. there’s an awful romantic comedy on 5. it’s got chris evans in it_ , Dean added, grinning. That was something he never would’ve said as the plain old Dean, but “Meg” had a lot more leeway.

_You have me convinced :D_

_what, chris evans is the magic word? do you have a crush on him or something?_

_Well he’s very pleasant to look at. And he kinda reminds me of a friend ;D_

Dean wanted to ask about that, but he felt that that was too risky, so he simply said, _Can’t argue with that logic._

The movie was silly and chock-full of plot holes, but Dean took it all in stride, because he and Cas kept texting throughout the movie. Like yesterday, they snarkily commented on the movie and occasionally got side-tracked to other subjects, such as could you skip _Incredible Hulk_ and still understand the Marvel Cinematic Universe (Cas argued that you could, because the movie was boring and you learned everything important in _The Avengers_ , and Dean insisted that every movie in the continuity should be watched). Dean forgot that he was supposed to be steering the conversation towards something more, because frankly, he was having too much fun with Cas’s running commentary. No one ever believed him, but Cas had a quirky sense of humor just waiting to be uncovered, and one that made no sense to anyone else but Dean. Dean was constantly grinning and laughing out loud to Cas’s comments, and felt like he had to scramble to keep up.

After the movie ended, they still kept talking for a while, even if they were both getting sleepy, and both had to get up early the next morning. Cas wouldn’t say so, but Dean knew it was getting far later than Cas’s usual bedtime – he needed to get up at an ungodly hour in order to be ready to talk about literature to ungrateful brats who’d rather not hear about it (Dean’s words, not Cas’s). Dean was getting tired, too, and he drowsed on the couch, attempting to blink away the heaviness from his eyes.

 _I still need to check tomorrow’s teaching plan_ , Cas finally admitted sometime after twelve.

 _awh,_ Dean wrote. He closed his eyes for a minute, placing his cell on his chest, and startled awake when a new text arrived.

_it’s not a big deal, but I should go before I fall asleep_

_and dream of teaching plans, then_

_No, I’m going to fall asleep thinking of you_

Dean blushed. _Weirdo_.

_But you like it._

Dean didn’t even pause before sending his reply. _Yeah, I do._

_Good night._

Dean smiled as he sent _Night!_

It only occurred to Dean as he was falling asleep that he hadn’t been able to push Cas into inappropriate phone sex today. Missing the goal would’ve bothered him more, but he couldn’t help but still feel happy about all they’d talked about and all the new things he’d learned about Cas. He simply liked spending time in Cas, even if it happened via text messages and “Meg”.


	3. Chapter 3

On Monday afternoon, three days after Dean had first texted Cas as Meg and three days after he’d told Cas to wait until calling Meg, his phone beeped with a text notification. Dean was at work, sitting by his desk and writing a report about the annual sales – which only grazed the top twenty most boring things Dean had ever done at his job – when his phone chimed. It took Dean unnervingly long to realize that it wasn’t his work phone’s notification sound, but in fact, his personal phone’s. Confused, Dean took his personal cell phone from his jacket pocket and read the message he’d received.

It was from Castiel, and wasn’t that a weird feeling. As far as Cas was concerned, he and Dean had last spoken on Friday evening at Roadhouse. As far as Dean was concerned, he’d had a wet dream about Cas he’d rather not think about just this morning, involving the imagery Cas had managed to put into his head during their conversations. Merely thinking about the dream made Dean uncomfortable, so he brushed it aside and opened Castiel’s message.

_I think I’m getting somewhere with Meg! :D_

Dean swallowed with an emotion he didn’t know how to name. He had to concentrate and think back to Friday, and what he and Cas had discussed then, and how much he was supposed to know about Meg. Crafting an answer to Cas took closer to ten minutes, because Dean simply didn’t know how to convey what he was supposed to convey. Finally, he decided to let it go and wrote, _Awesome! Did you call her already, creepo?_

Cas’s answer came only a minute later, and for some reason, the notification sound sounded _wrong_ to Dean’s ears. He wondered if he should change it.

_One, we texted, and two, she hardly seems to find me creepy. We’ve been texting back and forth! :D_

That’s not all you’ve been doing, Dean thought. ‘Texting’ hardly covered what had happened over weekend, or the lengthy conversations Castiel and “Meg” had had.

 _Good for you_ , Dean wrote with a tingle of bitterness he couldn’t identify.

Castiel didn’t answer, and that was probably a good thing. Just to be sure, Dean switched off his personal cell and put his work phone on the desk, next to his keyboard.

Dean waited, but Castiel didn’t text “Meg” that day. Anxious, Dean decided to wait until Castiel made the first move and refrained from asking Cas what he was doing that evening, although it crossed his mind several times when _Sentido_ started at seven thirty. He was already reaching for his work cell before he reminded himself of his resolve, and took his phone to the kitchen and went back to watch the show.

He was content with that plan, until fifteen minutes before the show ended, a text arrived from Castiel. Dean’s heart leapt.

_Was doing laundry. What did I miss???_

Dean smiled at his phone, and then proceeded to recap everything that had happened.

 

* * *

  

Even if they had talked on Monday evening, Dean still decided to cool it down with the texting during the week, because he actually needed to use his phone at work, and didn’t want to risk sending the wrong person a text “Meg” would send to Cas. They still traded a few messages here and there, mostly cutesy stuff and commentaries about work; Cas was downright adorable when he described how enthusiastic some of his students had been when they’d discussed modern adaptations of Shakespeare plays. Apparently, _10 Things I Hate About_ _You_ had been a hit among the students, and had sparked off a long discussion about misogyny in the original play.

Dean couldn’t talk about his work, so he put effort into commenting on Cas’s anecdotes and made sure to drop a few “hot teacher” innuendos when he could, which Cas definitely noticed and flirted right back, but it never went further than that. Dean didn’t know was he thankful or resentful for that, because on the one hand, he needed to concentrate on his work and keeping up with Cas was already taking up a huge chunk of his concentration; on the other hand, he didn’t feel like he’d gotten any release since last Saturday, and it was starting to get to him. Annoyed, he flirted even more aggressively with Cas on Wednesday, and when that got him nowhere, he dropped the conversation altogether, and didn’t answer Cas’s two texts on Thursday. Work was awful that day, and he hardly had any time to even consider texting back. Friday was even worse, but their group’s usual meet-up at Roadhouse Bar & Grill was at the evening, and Dean was glad that he could see Cas face-to-face again.

And, then, reality slammed Dean in the face.

When Dean left work at Friday and started the drive to Roadhouse, eagerly and a little earlier than he usually would, Dean suddenly realized that he hadn’t seen Cas as _himself_ for a whole week. He’d talked to Cas, multiple times, but Cas didn’t know that. From Cas’s point of view, Dean had dropped off the face of the earth after those few texts about Castiel and Meg’s developing relationship. Cas probably thought that Dean was a crappy, non-supportive friend who didn’t care about what was new in his life, and that instantly lowered Dean’s mood. He shouldn’t have been so preoccupied with “Meg” – he still wanted to talk to Cas as himself, not with “Meg” as a buffer.

Dean felt jumpy and nervous when he stepped into the bar, his eyes scanning the area for familiar faces. Jo Harvelle, the owner Ellen Harvelle’s daughter, was behind the counter this time, and greeted Dean with a huge grin. Dean smiled back at her; he knew Jo had a small crush on him, and it hardly bothered Dean, because he could sometimes haggle about the price of a beer just by smiling the right way at her. Besides, Jo was pretty, and a good listener when you needed to act out a good old cliché and cry on the bartender’s shoulder.

Dean startled out of his thoughts when a gravelly voice came from behind him.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean jumped and turned around. Castiel’s voice was lower than he remembered, and it made Dean uncomfortable and shivery in a way he didn’t like. Cas was dressed in his usual teacher getup, in a dark suit and that silly trench coat he insisted on wearing, even when it was so worn-out that he’d be better off getting a new one. Today’s tie was, hilariously, a blue ducky tie, with little ducklings walking all over the blue background. All in all, Cas looked as he always did, and still, the light in his eyes was enough to give Dean shivers.

Suddenly, all that happened during the week seemed to weight on his shoulders, and Dean felt like he would collapse under that burden. Dean felt, in a word, ashamed. All Dean could think about was how he’d gotten off to Castiel’s texts, how he’d _used_ Cas for that, and here Cas was, standing before him like nothing was different, and didn’t even know that. Dean swallowed, forcing the shame down his throat.

“Hiya, Cas,” Dean said, attempting to keep his voice even. He thought he succeeded in that, because Cas gave him the usual barely-there smile.

“Guys!”

Charlie was already sitting in their usual, waving them over. Dean and Cas made their way to the booth, and Dean noticed that Charlie had already ordered beers for them.

“Good service,” Dean said when he slid into his seat, next to Charlie. Cas settled on the other side of the table, across from Dean, and eyed the bottles on the table with interest. Dean didn’t waste any time and took a sip from his, before putting the bottle down in disgust. “Eugh, I take it back. What is this brand?”

“Pabst Blue Ribbon,” Charlie said. “I thought you said you wanted to try something new.”

“When on earth have I ever said that?”

“Last week, when you wouldn’t stop complaining about how your beer was stale and watery. Suck it up, Winchester.”

“Ugh,” Dean said, but took another sip of his beer. Surprisingly, it tasted better after a few sips.

Cas didn’t say anything about the beer, but Dean noticed that he put it down after one sip, and concluded that Cas didn’t care for it, either. Cas was just too polite to say that to Charlie, even if Charlie knew what Cas was like, and thus, easily noticed it.

“So, how’s life?” Dean asked Charlie, because he didn’t think he could bring himself to listen to Cas gush over “Meg”. Although, Cas “gushing” over anything was hilarious and kind of adorable at the same time; he wouldn’t stop speaking in that serious, gravelly voice even when talking about something as nerdy as magical realism in modern literature.

“Amazing,” Charlie said. “I scored a date before you got here.”

“What, just now?” Dean asked. “How early did you get here?”

Charlie slapped him on the thigh. “No need to be jealous. And I only needed five minutes.”

“Really?” Dean looked around. “Who’s the lucky woman?”

Charlie had come out as a lesbian nearly ten years ago – almost as soon as she’d started talking to Dean online. She’d never even bothered to hide it, although it had taken Dean an embarrassingly long while to put the pieces together. Charlie had been going out with a girl named Gilda during college, and Dean had always assumed that they were just close friends, even with the frequency Charlie had kept dropping Gilda’s name during casual conversation. (Actually, that seemed to be a recurring theme of his life, Dean noted – he’d never realized that Charlie and Gilda were a couple before Charlie outright said it, and he’d failed to notice that Anna and Ruby were more than just roommates.) After Charlie had moved to the same city and had become a permanent fixture in their group, Dean and Charlie had noticed that they were excellent wingmen for each other. Being a wingman for a lesbian was shockingly easy – all you had to do was act like a jerk to a lone woman, and let Charlie swoop in and save her. Likewise, Charlie could work as a buffer and smoothly introduce Dean to lone women. They worked very well as a team, although once or twice, they’d ended up in an awkward situation where a woman wanted to take them _both_ home, and that was huge no-no for them. Even if Charlie hadn’t been 6 on Kinsey scale, Dean refused to ever think of Charlie like that – she was too much like a little sister that he never wanted.

Though, Dean hadn’t needed to be a wingman for Charlie in ages, because it seemed that she could find dates and company just as easily on her own.

“Meet my future wife,” Charlie said, beaming. She pointed at the bar counter, and Cas and Dean curiously craned their necks to see her. There were two women sitting by the counter, but both of them had male company, so it became a guessing game.

“The redhead in all black?” Dean guessed.

“The brunette in the blue dress?” Cas countered.

“No,” Charlie said. “She’s behind the bar.”

Dean nearly choked on his beer. “You scored a date with Jo?”

“Yup,” Charlie said, looking happy with herself.

“But she—” Dean didn’t even know what to say. He’d always thought that Jo was straight as an arrow, based on her crush on him. “She knows it’s a date, right?”

“Don’t be an ass. Of course she does.” Charlie grinned. “And if she didn’t know before, I think she clued in after the make-out session we had in the supply closet.”

“Oh god, please pass the brain bleach.” Then he gently punched Charlie on the shoulder. “Good for you, kiddo.”

Charlie smiled, looking very happy, and Dean mused that if Jo made her glow like that… they would be good together.

Charlie and Dean lapsed into discussion, but Cas was silent and brooding today, hardly commenting on anything they said. Dean attempted to get him to talk about his job, because that was usually a way to get Castiel lecture about his beloved literature, but today, Dean’s tries only made Castiel scoff and look away. Dean wished that Sam and Sarah would get here already, because the atmosphere in their booth was fast reaching freezing readings.

“Sam and Sarah are late,” Castiel muttered, as if reading Dean’s mind. He looked annoyed, staring down his beer bottle, and Dean felt a twinge of sympathy towards Charlie – the beer wasn’t that bad, and it was on Charlie’s tab.

“Wow, who pissed in your cornflakes?” Dean asked.

“Very mature,” Castiel muttered.

“Says the guy who could give Ted Bundy a run for his money with those murderous eyes.”

“Disturbing,” Charlie commented, “but scarily accurate.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “What’s eating you?”

Cas looked away, again. “It is nothing of import.”

Charlie and Dean glanced at each other. When Cas broke out the oddly formal speech, it was a clear warning signal.

“Alright, Cas,” Charlie said, “As your best friend—”

“Dean’s my—”

“As your best friend, it’s my duty to cheer you up.” She reached across the table and took Castiel’s hand, squeezing it. For some irrational reason, the action made Dean’s stomach churn. “So, c’mon, tell us. What’s wrong?”

“Well…” Cas sighed. “I thought I’d managed to establish a connection with someone, but it seems I was mistaken.”

Dean blinked. Was… was Cas snippy because “Meg” hadn’t texted him in the last few days? Dean had thought that Cas wouldn’t even notice, and he had been really busy, but… Was Cas this hung up on “Meg”?

“You’ve been talking to Meg?” Charlie asked.

“I was,” Castiel finally said. His eyes swept over the table, and a bitter smile crossed his lips. “But no longer, it seems.”

“Oh, hon,” Charlie said, adopting the same tone she always did when Cas struck out. They’d had a conversation like this way too many times; even if Cas managed to get a date or two, those never went anywhere, and the girls never called Cas back. Dean felt awful that he was putting Cas in the same position as those stuck-up girls who couldn’t see past his exterior. “I’m sorry. That’s tough.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said. He lifted his eyes from the table, looking at Charlie. Dean felt uneasy, and avoided Castiel’s look – he didn’t know how to comfort Cas.

Luckily, Sam and Sarah chose that moment to appear, their hands clasped together. They were smiling so brightly that it was easy to guess what they were about to say.

“You’re late,” Dean still said, smirking. Sarah and Sam both drew up a chair and sat down at the side of the table, too excited to let go of each other.

“Hear us out,” Sarah said. “I had an appointment with my doctor earlier today, and…”

“Oh my god,” Charlie said, already predicting the announcement, and even Cas perked up.

“We’re pregnant!” Sam grinned, and Charlie and Cas burst into loud congratulations. Dean stole a glance at Cas – he was smiling widely, earlier sulking now forgotten.

“Oh god, you’re one of those parents,” Dean deadpanned. “When will your tummy start to show, Sam?”

“Very funny.”

Sam and Sarah’s news changed the course of the evening, and the earlier gloomy atmosphere was swept away. Charlie ordered them champagne, despite Sam’s protests, and they toasted to the future parents. Cas seemed to be in a good mood again, and started to talk about baby names with Sam, even suggesting some with a long explanation where the names came from and why they would be good. Dean got into a mock fight with Cas over who got to be the godfather, which ended when Sarah announced that _neither_ of them would be, if they continued to flick peanuts at each other. Dean didn’t mind; it felt good to see Cas smile, even over something as trivial as Sarah playfully scolding them.

Sam and Sarah couldn’t stop talking about the baby and what the future held for them – Dean was afraid that they would remain as sappy as this until after their baby had gone to college – and so it was closer to twelve when they all finally left the bar. Just like Dean had predicted, Sarah asked Charlie to help her with the baby shower, and Charlie happily agreed. No one had the heart to point out that it was pretty early for that, because Sarah and Charlie were already brainstorming ideas, and Sam had to persuade his wife for an hour before they finally left. It was nearing one when Dean got home, and he instantly threw his clothes into the hamper and collapsed on his bed. It had been a long day, and he couldn’t wait for dreamland to claim him.

Only, Dean couldn’t sleep. Despite the happiness for Sam and Sarah, Dean couldn’t stop thinking about Castiel’s face earlier in the evening, when he’d said that he thought he’d made a connection with someone.

Dean bit his lip. He was already way too deep in this: “Meg” had taken a life of her own, wormed her way into Castiel’s mind, and since “her” life mirrored Dean’s in so many ways, there was no way in hell Dean could ever let Cas meet the real Meg, ever again. Maybe he could just… fade out the contact between them, delete the real Meg’s number and keep fingers crossed for the rest of his life that Cas wouldn’t run into Meg in Roadhouse or anywhere else.

Dean suddenly realized that that was a real possibility, and felt a shiver go down his spine. What if Cas randomly bumped into Meg in a grocery store, or on the street? What if Cas started a conversation, happy to finally see Meg in person, and embarrass himself terribly when the real Meg wouldn’t even recognize him? What if Cas figured out that Dean had been pulling his leg all along?

He should just stop this whole thing, before he encountered more problems. He had a good chance, now that Cas thought that “Meg” wasn’t talking to him anymore. But Dean couldn’t stand the thought of it. He’d seen how much Cas wanted to keep talking to “Meg”, and he couldn’t fail Cas – he hadn’t been able to help Cas with any other ladies, and he oddly felt compelled to keep up the lie.

Yes, it was better this way. He could just keep going, go with the flow, and leave the problem for Future Dean to solve.

Besides, he hadn’t meant to ignore Cas, he _wanted_ to talk to Cas, and that made Dean reach for his work cell on his nightstand and type out a message. It was half past one, but Dean wanted to send the message right away.

_soryr. are you awake? I can’t sleep tonight_

Only a minute later, his screen lit up, and a text notification popped up. Cas had sent him, _me neither_

_sorry about the radio silence. work was kicking my ass this week_

_That’s okay. Why can’t you sleep?_

_Too keyed up, I dunno. How about you?_

_Too much energy_

_whatcha thinking about?_

There was a long pause after that, and Dean closed his eyes as he waited for the answer. His eyelids felt heavy, and the bright screen was hurting his eyes, but his mind wouldn’t settle and he still couldn’t sleep.

Then Cas’s answer came.

_How do you feel about rimming?_

Dean lifted his brows. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

_Seems dirty. And gross._

_you’re supposed to clean up before anything happens, mind._

_still. How can that feel good?_

_Several nerve endings there_

_Dunno_ , Dean wrote. Then he continued, _Is that something you’d wanna try?_

_Maybe ;)_

_Cheeky_ , Dean wrote. _well convince me. how’d you rim me?_

It took Cas so long to send anything back that Dean almost thought he’d fallen asleep. When the text arrived, Dean turned to his stomach, anticipation thrumming in his veins.

_I’d lay you gently on the bed, on your stomach. I’d start out with a massage, to get you comfortable and relaxed. I’d work my way from your shoulders downwards, push my thumbs through every kink and knot, make you putty in my hands. Then, once you’d be comfortable, I’d grasp your buttocks, and at first just breathe on you, learning you._

Dean swallowed. He could see that all too clearly, too brightly; he could picture Cas looming behind him, gently touching his back, those strong hands learning every curve and angle of his body. He could see Cas crouching over him, and for a brief moment, Dean swore he could feel Cas’s hot breath over his ass-crack.

_I’d start slowly, just circling your rim with my tongue, tiny little licks to get you used to it. I’d listen to your gasps and moans, and push harder and harder, inching slowly in, until I could push my tongue in and suck you._

Dean’s face heated up. He was too tired to jerk off, but just reading that and hearing Cas’s voice through it made warmth gather to his lower stomach and his ass tingle, and wasn’t that a weird feeling. He was semi-hard, and tried to resist the urge to relieve himself, because he didn’t have the energy to deal with the mess. This text was something he’d definitely remember and use in the future jerk-off sessions, though.

_jfc_

_you say that a lot_

_don’t ruin this_ , Dean wrote. _Keep going._

_I’d keep pushing in and out of you, faster and harder, licking you from the inside, until you couldn’t stand it and would start to fuck back on my tongue. I’d let you, keep pushing into you until you’d come on just that. Then, once you’d be loose enough, I’d push my cock in between your cheeks. I’d push at your rim, never quite entering, teasing you until you were begging. Then, I’d enter in one, hard thrust, and fuck you roughly, taking hold of your shoulders and keeping you from moving. Just before I’d come, I’d pull out and spill myself on your back._

Christ, Cas could write erotica for living, Dean thought. His swallowed again, his erection now prominent and almost begging to be dealt with. Dean resisted for a while, but his hips seemed to have a mind of their own, and rubbing against the mattress felt just too good. Dean wiggled a hand between himself and the bed, and clumsily formed a ring of his fingers. There wasn’t much room to move, but Dean preferred it that way – he could almost feel the way Cas pushed him against the bed, keeping him in place while pounding into him.

The image of Cas spilling over his back was too much, and Dean came with a short, surprised gasp. He waited until his breathing evened, too tired to even curse himself for forgetting the girl in this scenario again, and with heavy limbs, reached to the nightstand for tissues. When he’d cleaned up and thrown the tissues on the floor – he’d deal with them and the sheets in the morning – he grasped his phone and wrote, _holy shit cas. You have me absolutely convinced_

_my work is done, then._

_Not by a long shot._

_?_

Dean snorted, and wrote, _I’m gonna need more descriptions in the future_

_I can do that ;)_

Dean yawned. At least texting with Cas had done its job – he was ready to fall asleep, exhausted by the unplanned masturbation session.

 _You think you can sleep now?_ Cas asked.

_Yeah. You?_

_Already falling asleep. Good night_ , Cas said.

Dean smiled, and wrote between heavy blinks, _Night. Talk to you tomorrow._

_Night, gorgeous._

 

* * *

 

Dean slept surprisingly well until nine, and although he didn’t get as many hours as he would’ve liked to, he was too restless to stay in bed any longer. He dragged himself to shower and stayed under the spray for a long time, enjoying the pressure of water slamming against his shoulders. He briefly imagined what it would’ve been like to have Cas there with him, but he quickly banished the thought – shower sex was way too complicated to even fantasize about.

Like last weekend, Dean texted Cas _good morning_ as early as he dared, and Cas answered him not a minute later, making Dean grin. This time, Dean was more careful and didn’t accidentally try to invite himself to eat breakfast with Cas, and the conversation was more subdued. It still brought a smile to his face, because just like last weekend, Cas described his breakfast with the driest words to ever grace the English language, and Dean teased him about getting Instagram again. Cas told him no.

_I just don’t understand why I would need that._

_Makes things easier!_

_Me describing things has worked pretty well so far, hasn’t it?_

Dean snorted with laughter. _Point_ , he conceded. Attempting to change the subject before they ventured down the dirty road (again), Dean roamed through his cupboards, trying to think of what to make for breakfast. He didn’t bother on weekdays, but weekends always felt a bit better if he put effort into making a more elaborate meal. Dean paused when he spied a bottle of old chocolate syrup in the back of a cupboard; he hadn’t used that in at least a year. It was probably ruined.

_Any ideas for what I could do with an old bottle of chocolate syrup?_

_Pancakes?_

_I don’t have any eggs tho_

_Well, there are other ways you could use that._

Dean shook his head, amused. _Foodplay? Really?_

_Why not?_

_You don’t mess with food. What a waste._

_It’s not waste if I lick chocolate off of your skin, is it?_

His phone started ringing, and for one, horrifying heartbeat, Dean thought that Cas was calling him. Then he realized that it was his personal cell that was ringing – he’d recently changed the ring tone and the sound notifications to the same ones as in his work cell – and quickly walked to the bedroom to get it. As he read the display, his heart rate returned to normal. It was his mother calling. Dean didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone right now – except Cas – but he would never turn his mother down. She lived three states away, and phone calls and Skype calls were never quite enough.

“Hi, mom,” Dean answered.

“Dean, honey, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Mary said. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine, I guess,” Dean said. “Work is still boring as ever, but at least it pays well, right?”

His mother sighed, just like she did every time Dean spoke of his awful job, and moved on to more pleasant subjects. “How’s everyone? How’s Castiel?”

“Cas is fine. He’s busy with preparing for some teachers’ conference, I dunno. I don’t know why he bothers, but it seems important to him.”

There was warmth in Mary’s voice as she said, “Sounds exactly like him.”

Dean started to smile despite the situation. It was absurd, his work cell was still glowing with a vaguely dirty message from Cas, and here he was, talking with his mother about Cas’s ordinary life with a straight face. (Figuratively speaking. He wasn’t so sure about the literal implications of that anymore.)

“You’re coming for a visit next week, right?” Dean asked.

“Yes, I’m flying out on Saturday. Sam and Sarah have promised to pick me up from the airport. Sam said you have something to do then,” she said, amusement in her voice. Dean grumbled – he did have their bi-weekly LARP/Dungeons and Dragons session with Charlie, but he suspected that Sam hadn’t exactly used those terms.

“Whatever he told you, it’s a lie. Though I will be busy that day.”

They talked for a while longer, about Mary’s travel plans and Sam and Sarah’s baby announcement, and Dean couldn’t help but miss his mom, despite being on the phone with her right then – his mother had been his rock for so long, and even if they were still frequently in contact, the distance made it kind of hard to be really up to date with each other. It had been ages since Dean had visited his mom, or vice versa, and he was looking forward to her visit.

“I have to go now,” Mary finally said. “Give my regards to Castiel, and others, too.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I’ll see you soon. Take care, Dean.”

“You too, mom.” Dean smiled as he heard the call disconnect. Mary had been stoked by Sam and Sarah’s news, and Dean feared that sooner or later, he’d be assimilated into the sappy people that seemed to spout all around him. He couldn’t imagine how his mom react when the baby was born. Absently, Dean spared a thought to his father and the fact that dad probably didn’t even know about the baby yet, but he refused to feel bad about it – dad kept to himself, and besides, it was Sam and Sarah’s call who to tell.

Shaking his head, Dean went back to the kitchen to continue making breakfast. Dean opened his work cell and looked at the discussion with Cas again, both amused and exasperated. Foodplay, really?

 _okay, no. really not into that_ , he sent to Cas.

_sorry. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable_

_that’s okay._

_I’m actually glad the dislikes are coming to light, too._

_Yeah, me too. Makes navigating this easier, right?_ Dean meant it, even if he wasn’t all too clear on what “this” entailed. Attempting to push the thought away, he added, _Besides, if you like it…_

_go on  
_

Dean hesitated, but then decided to go for it. So what if it was contradictory of him.

_I wouldn’t say no to licking chocolate syrup off of your neck_

_But you wouldn’t like me doing that to you?_

_Not really. But i’m shallow & got needs, ok_

_Chocolate syrup related needs?_

_Shut up. You + chocolate would taste really good._

_I can’t tell if you’re more into the food or me._

Dean burst out laughing, surprised by Cas’s reply.

_You, dumbass. Let’s just say that licking things off of you does something to me, okay._

_Go on._

_not good with words._

_Don’t sell yourself short. But I’m not going to pressure._

_Thanks._

_And I’m not averse to you licking things off of my skin, either._

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean was aware that giving Cas jerk-off material crossed whatever lines he’d tried to maintain, but when he thought about Cas’s reactions and how he might look reading the messages, he couldn’t be bothered to dwell on arbitrary lines of friendship.

 

* * *

 

Although they hadn’t discussed it, when Monday came around, their texts returned to tamer ones. Dean would still send Cas occasional texts, just random thoughts, all of which Cas answered, and then started a long-winded discussion about _Sentido_. That was a slow one, because they were both distracted by work, but every once in a while, they’d continue the argument, which made Dean weirdly happy.

Though they’d been proper so far, that didn’t stop Dean from wanting to raise the stakes. He thought back to Friday night and how Cas had casually asked him about rimming, and the more Dean thought about it, the tighter his pants started to feel. The nonchalant, almost clinical way Cas had brought it up was so Cas-like, and oddly exhilarating for Dean. Thinking about that was very inappropriate, since he was in the middle of an open office and supposed to be working, but Dean couldn’t help it; it had felt freeing to discuss kinks, just like that, with Cas.

Finally, he decided to risk it, and after one, he sent Cas a very simple question.

_would you tie me up?_

_Would you like that?_ Cas countered, not three minutes later. Dean could picture Cas’s expression, calm and curious, as if he was discussing the weather. He kind of wished Cas would be at least a bit ruffled – it was noon, and Cas was at school, for crying out loud. Christ, maybe Cas was teaching right this moment, watching his students work on their essays with one eye and texting to Dean at the same time.

_Maybe ;)_

_Have you ever done something like that?_

Dean’s face heated up. This was indefinitely more intimate discussion than anything Dean had ever had with Cas, never mind the fact that Cas didn’t know he was talking to Dean. Though… being “Meg” gave him the freedom to do that, and he wanted to continue it.

_Couple of times. Not enough._

_Why?_

_Hard to find people to do that with. That requires a lot of trust._

Dean wasn’t exaggerating when he said that – he did like being tied up, but the only person he’d done that with had been Rhonda, and that had been back in high school. He could thank Rhonda for introducing him to a lot of things he liked during sex, and luckily, Rhonda had been open to experimenting. From time to time, Dean still felt the need to find out what had happened to Rhonda after they’d broken up – they hadn’t been in contact for over ten years, and Dean wondered where she’d ended up. They hadn’t been compatible in other ways and constantly got on each other’s nerves, but at least the sex had been amazing.

Dean’s mind briefly wandered to Lisa, and his chest constricted. After what had happened with Lisa, Dean hadn’t been able to bring himself to suggest his one-night stands most of the things he liked in bed – he just went with the flow, and while it was satisfying, it was never what he really wanted. He realized it was shady to use Cas like this, but at least… at least with Cas, he could pretend that someone wanted him and wasn’t freaked out by his likes. Besides, so far, Cas had somehow managed to tick off _a lot_ on his list of kinks. It was unnerving how compatible they were, that way.

Dean phone buzzed. Cas had answered, _Ah. I see._ Then, immediately, another text followed: _Ropes or handcuffs?_

Dean had never had an exhibitionism kink, but he started to reconsider that – there was something titillating about sending risky texts at the middle of his workplace, when he knew that Castiel was in just as public place as him.

_Both, if used correctly. ;)_

_Mm. You’d look good, tied to my bed._

Dean immediately pictured Cas’s bedroom, the soft light breaking through the green curtains and illuminating the queen-sized bed with pale green beddings. He saw in his mind the sturdy, wooden bed frame and imagined how easy it would be for Cas to loop rope into the decorative bed frame. He had to put his phone on his desk and turn to blindly stare at his computer screen to fight off the blush. Not that his coworkers noticed; everyone else was absorbed in their jobs, or playing Farmville on Facebook, for all Dean knew.

His phone buzzed, saving him from continuing that train of thought.

_Are you at work?_

Dean raised an eyebrow and resisted the temptation to write “duh” back.

_Yes?_

_Can you have ten minutes for yourself?_

Dean couldn’t believe where this was going. This was crossing a wholly new line – no, jumping headfirst into a new damn area. He glanced around, calculating the risks and noticing that his boss was nowhere in sight. His heart thumped like a rabbit’s as he typed the response.

_For you, yes._

Dean pretended to work as he waited for an answer, but he couldn’t focus on the numbers on his screen for more than a second, and even then, he had no idea what they were about. When his phone buzzed, it sounded way too loud in the murmured chatter of the office, even if that was only in Dean’s ears.

_Go to the bathroom, make sure it’s empty and lock the door._

Dean felt as though everyone could see what he was planning to do when he rose from his seat, casually brushed his jacket and walked through the office, bypassing several of his coworkers. Most of them didn’t even look up from their computers or continued their discussions, and those who did, only gave Dean a happy nod. Dean still felt like he was bursting. He forced himself to walk slowly to the elevator, and went up three stories. There was a bathroom on his floor, too, but too many people used it – the one on fourteenth floor was a small one and only favored by some of the higher-ups. Dean made sure that no one saw him exit the elevator and walk to the bathroom, which was unnecessary, but Dean still felt like he had to cover his tracks somehow.

The bathroom had only two stalls, and both were empty. Dean sighed in relief, and locked the door behind him. Then, he slipped into the furthest stall and sat down on the toilet. He sent Cas a quick, _I’m here._

_Would you really let me tie you up?_

Dean felt slightly hysterical when he answered, _yes. or cuff me, either way_

_Blue silk rope would look gorgeous against your skin. I’d start slow, loop your wrists together, bind them to the headboard above your head. I’d move on to your chest, tightening the rope around you until it hugged your torso.Ever heard of shibari?  
_

_?_

There was a picture accompanying the next text; it was obviously taken from some instructional kink website, because despite the predicament, there was nothing sexual about the way the woman was tied in the picture. The lines of rope ran across her chest, hugging her tightly in a complicated pattern, and though Dean had never thought about bondage to this degree, he found that he wouldn’t mind trying that. Just the thought of Cas tying him with complicated patterns like that lit a fire in his veins, and hastily, Dean scrambled to open his pants and slip a hand inside his boxers. _  
_

_Christ cas, you’ve really thought about this_

_You make it too easy._

_Tease. Continue._

There was no answer, and flushing, Dean added, _please?_

_Once I’d bound you to the bed, I’d kiss you. I’d kiss your mouth, your neck, you cheeks, moving slowly downwards. I’d bite at your collar, your neck, play with your nipples._

Dean groaned, until he remembered that he was in a public place and quickly shut his mouth. Even if he was alone in the restroom and the door was locked, anyone could be queuing behind the door right now. The thought of it should’ve made Dean shrink with shame, but instead, it felt so damn dirty that it only excited him.

_Then, I’d take your thighs and bite at them, moving slowly upwards, bite by bite, until I’d reach your hole. Then, I’d lick you until you were trembling, but not letting you come, not yet. Are you touching yourself?_

Dean whined at the question and wrote, _Yes_

_Describe it to me. What are you thinking about?_

Dean’s heart nearly stopped. Even if he had a way with words like Cas, there was no way he could tell Cas exactly what he was thinking about – the way Cas’s mouth would feel hot on his skin, the way his teeth would worry his nipples, the way the rope would hug his chest.

Agonizingly slow, Dean managed to write, _You. My hands in headboard. You over me. I’m not good with words_

_You’re doing fine, gorgeous. Keep going._

_I sneaked off and I’m touching myself in a public bathroom and thinking about you biting and fucking me, isn’t that enough_

_Good_ , Cas said. Dean whined, changing his position on the toilet and widening his stance. His cock was throbbing, and he needed to come, but he couldn’t, not yet.

_I’d keep teasing your hole with my tongue, until you couldn’t take it and were begging for me. Only then would I plunge my fingers inside of you, fuck you with them._

_Come for me._

His orgasm punched through him as Dean read the words, which was probably a lot screwed up, but Dean didn’t care. All he could see in his mind was himself looking up to Cas as he laid on Cas’s bed, immobile, and hear Cas’s gravelly voice whispering “come for me” in his ear. The image was so powerful that it left Dean gasping for air for several minutes, and he forgot all about the urgency to get back to his desk before his boss noticed that he was gone.

When his breathing had calmed down enough, Dean dared to unlock the stall and go over to the sink to wash his hands and make himself presentable again. He was flushed, but there were no stains on his suit, so he counted it as a win. His phone buzzed when he was drying his hands.

_Are you okay?_

Dean smiled, picturing Cas crouching over his phone in front of the class and typing with furrowed brows.

_Incredible. But i need to go_

_Me too._

_Thank you_

_For what? Thank you._

As he made his mind back to his desk, it crossed his mind that the situation might’ve been getting out of hand.

 

* * *

 

On Wednesday, Cas came over to raid Dean’s fridge.

This wasn’t out of the norm. In fact, it was odd that Cas hadn’t stopped by last week – Dean had been so preoccupied with playing “Meg” that he hadn’t even noticed it, but it felt like ages since Cas had just come over to spend time at Dean’s place. Since they’d started out as roommates in college, they’d become accustomed to spending time in close quarters, witnessing each other’s (nasty) habits and sometimes, just sitting in the same space without saying anything. It had felt natural to share an apartment after college for that reason – finding and getting used to a new roommate hadn’t made sense to either, so they’d just decided to look for an apartment together.

Even though they’d both lived on their own for years now, it still was an unwritten rule between them that whenever they felt like it, they could go to the other’s apartment and just spend time there. They didn’t have to do anything special, although usually, they did do something together, like watch old movies and make fun of the wooden acting. Sometimes, they just showed up to enjoy the comfort of having someone in the same space. The older they’d gotten, though, the more they’d started to use excuses for that silent need; specifically, Cas usually showed up so that Dean could cook for him.

This time, though, when Dean opened the door and let Cas in, Dean was nervous. He hadn’t seen Cas face to face since Friday, when they’d all gathered to Roadhouse and celebrated Sam and Sarah’s future child, and it felt like a lifetime had passed between that moment and now. Even though Dean had talked to Cas daily, he couldn’t use any of those conversations, and so he felt lost and disorientated – he didn’t know what to say.

“How’s work?” Dean had been texting as “Meg” with Cas today, so he already knew the answer to that, but he pretended to be very interested and followed closely as Castiel took off his coat.

Castiel shrugged. “Not overbearing. But not very interesting at the moment, either.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Not interesting? You live to teach teenagers about the wonders of literature.”

“It does get a bit repetitive to discuss the same things with different classes for the third week in a row,” Castiel said, wearily. “Especially when nobody seems to have passionate opinions about Jane Austen.”

Dean snorted. “They’re teenagers, man. You’re asking too much of them.”

“Nonsense. They just need a little encouragement.”

Dean shook his head. “Whatever you say.”

Castiel followed him to the kitchen, and took a chair while Dean started to prepare a meal for them. He had had only a short warning before Cas was already at his door – though, considering he usually got one minute warning when Cas called from the elevator, this was an improvement – so he had barely managed to put the rice in the water.

“Can I help?” Cas asked. He always did, and Dean always told him no.

“No,” Dean said. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

“I’m not pretty otherwise?” Castiel joked, and Dean grinned over his shoulder.

This is normal, Dean thought, with a little smile. Nothing had changed. Cas was still his best friend, and everything felt normal and easy between them. They could joke just like usual, like they were two friends having a dinner, like every week.

Maybe this evening wouldn’t be as bad as Dean had feared.

Castiel was tired, and so was Dean, so they didn’t talk much as Dean prepared the meal – Chicken Parmesan with rice – but they enjoyed the silence between them, and occasionally lapsed into discussion about their jobs and their week. It was comfortable, like always, and Dean relaxed as they talked.

At some point, Castiel got up and went to get something from the hallway. When he returned, he was holding a bottle in his hand, and Dean raised an eyebrow.

“You brought wine?”

“Seeing as you made the meal, I wanted to contribute something.”

“Awesome,” Dean said. He liked beer better, but wouldn’t say no to a bottle of red wine, especially since Cas had picked it – Cas’s taste with wines was far better than his. “Would you mind getting us glasses?”

“Of course.”

Cas put the bottle on the kitchen table and moved to the left cupboard. When he reached up for the glasses, his button-up shirt rode up, and Dean could see his hipbones strutting out. He shouldn’t have looked, but he couldn’t help it – his eyes were glued to the sight. When Castiel slightly turned, Dean saw a hint of the trail of hair peeking from under the waistband.

Dean swallowed. Why would anyone wear jeans that sinfully low? And who even had hipbones like that – as if they were carved from stone, and invited you to touch them? And that hint of hair, just suggesting a little more, but not giving away too much… Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away, but to his eternal relief, Castiel didn’t seem to notice. He grabbed the glasses and closed the cupboard door, and turned back to the kitchen table. Dean hastily checked up on the chicken, pretending to be engrossed in it. If he was lucky, Castiel might not even notice Dean’s temporary lack of heterosexuality.

Dean heard Castiel moving behind him, arranging the glasses on the table, and then shuffling as Cas turned around again. Dean concentrated on watching the rice boil as he rather felt than heard Castiel walk behind him, and then pinpricks needled his skin as Castiel came to stand so close to his back that he could feel the heat radiate from Cas. They were uncomfortably close – just half an inch more, and they’d be touching, Dean’s back pressed against Cas’s chest. Dean resisted the urge to press back.

“Dean,” Cas said, and a chill went down Dean’s spine. He’d imagined that tone of voice so many times during the last few days, and he’d almost forgotten how powerful the real experience was.

“What?” Dean muttered.

Cas chuckled. “You’re in my way, Dean.”

With that, Dean realized where he was: he was standing between Cas and the drawer where the corkscrew was, which was the reason Cas was behind him, waiting for Dean to move aside. As if struck by lightning, Dean jumped aside, letting Cas reach to the drawer, open it and take the corkscrew. Dean gulped and pretended his heart wasn’t racing, because nothing had happened. They hadn’t even touched, and Castiel had meant absolutely nothing by standing so close, and it was all Dean’s fault for reading too much into gestures that would have been perceived as platonic by anyone else.

Dean listened as Cas opened the bottle, and preemptively moved aside when Cas came to throw the cork away. Dean watched Cas do that from the corner of his eye, and his eyes tracked Cas even as he retreated to pour the wine. Dean turned back to the chicken, though it hardly needed his attention at this point.

They waited in silence for a while, and then occasionally talked about nothing – Sam and Sarah’s upcoming baby was a good topic, because they both had a lot to say about that, and they argued about whether the baby would be a boy or a girl for a long while, and ended up making a bet. Dean was convinced it’d be a boy, and Cas was sure it’d be a girl, and when they started to discuss names, the conversation got heated.

“There’s no way in hell they’d name their firstborn ‘Robert’,” Dean argued. “Uncle Bobby is still alive and well!”

“And lives in a different state,” Castiel reminded him. “And was more of a father to you than your real dad. I think Sam would like to honor him that way.”

“Sarah would never allow that. And she always gets her way, because my brother is a pushover.”

“She’d let Sam have this one, because she knows how important it is to him.”

“What, and naming little Danny after her father sounds impossible to you?”

“Sam would never allow that.”

“Yeah, but like I said, Sarah always gets her way.”

The atmosphere had returned to normal, and Dean was glad. This evening had started out so normal, and then Dean had stupidly tried to make it weird. That wouldn’t do – he needed to act normal, act like the plain old Dean, and for now, Cas seemed to buy it.

The chicken was finally done after the long discussion of baby names winded down, and just in time – they were both famished.

“Wanna watch something while we eat?” Dean asked.

“Sure,” Cas said, with a shrug. “Is there anything on?”

“I dunno. Your pick,” Dean said. He couldn’t concentrate enough to remember what was on tonight, or if there were any worthwhile movies he’d taped lately.

Castiel picked his glass and his plate, and went ahead to the living room. Dean stayed a while back, grounding way too much cheese on top of his chicken, and tried to gather himself. Cas’s proximity was making him feel weird, and he needed to be normal tonight.

Nut up, Winchester, Dean told himself as he picked up his food and his glass, and followed Cas to the living room. But when he stepped into the room, his brain short-circuited, and it was a near thing he didn’t drop his plate.

Cas was sitting on the couch. Correction: Cas was sitting on the couch where Dean had _masturbated_.

This shouldn’t have been a problem. Dean had jerked off on every possible surface of his apartment during the last few years, and had, truthfully, masturbated on that very couch multiple times, once only narrowly finishing and cleaning up before Cas had knocked on his door. It hadn’t ever bothered Dean before that Cas was sitting in the exact spot that Dean had recently wiped clean of semen. It hadn’t been a problem before, because Dean hadn’t ever jerked off to thoughts of _Cas_.

His face heated up and it suddenly felt like it was over hundred degrees in the room, and the feeling only worsened when Cas looked at him, confused about Dean’s sudden silence.

“Dean? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dean said, secretly congratulating himself on managing to keep his voice normal. “Scoot over,” he said, and took a breath before sitting down next to Cas and placing his glass and his plate on the coffee table. Cas relaxed back against the couch, and his knee knocked against Dean’s. Dean flinched and tried to mask that as changing his posture, and ended up closer to Cas than he’d planned.

“You have _Kingsman_ on DVD,” Cas said then. “I haven’t seen it yet, and Charlie keeps bugging me about it, so I thought we could watch it? If you don’t mind?”

“Yeah, no, go ahead,” Dean said. He had no idea what Cas had just said, because all he could think about was the fact that he was sitting on the couch where he had recently masturbated to thoughts of Cas spanking him, while Cas was sitting right next to him. Cas was sitting next to him, and their thighs kept sliding against each other, and he could feel the heat radiate from Cas, and Dean wanted nothing more than to press against Cas and just let go.

Dean feared that his heart would give out before the movie was over. He didn’t think he’d ever been in a more embarrassing situation, and that was counting the time he’d wetted his pants in fourth grade. Sammy had never let him forget about that one, and still occasionally dropped jabs about that in casual speech. This was a thousand times worse than that: if Dean’s masturbatory fantasies ever got out, Sam and _Cas_ would never let him live through that. They’d make fun of him until the sun burned out, and Cas would never look at him the same way again, just scoff in disgust.

They watched in silence, because Cas was, for once, engrossed in the movie and found nothing to make fun of, and Dean couldn’t come up with anything to say. He kept watching Cas from the corner of his eye, observing the way Cas’s lips would curl in a tiny smile whenever something funny happened on screen, and the way he scrunched up his nose when the violence was too excessive. His body rocked whenever he laughed, the vibrations traveling all the way down his chest, and Dean found it all utterly captivating.

When the movie ended, Cas took the remote and switched the TV on. He flipped through several channels, unsatisfied, until Dean got impatient and huffed.

“Jeez, Cas, just choose something.” Just then, Castiel landed on a channel, and let the show go on more than two seconds.

“ _Doctor Sexy_?” Cas asked, amusement in his voice. Dean perked up, before he schooled his features and remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this in front of Cas.

“Just choose whatever,” Dean muttered.

“Alright,” Cas said with a grin. He put the remote down and settled back on the couch, letting Doctor Sexy continue a speech about the dangers of an operation. Dean hadn’t seen the episode, and he was somewhat annoyed that he’d missed the start, because he wanted to know whose operation they were talking about, but he didn’t want to spoil himself. He would need to tape the re-run tomorrow morning.

“Really? We’re watching this?” Dean asked, trying to work exasperation into his voice. Cas furrowed his brows, which meant that Dean had at least sounded convincing.

“Do you want to watch something else?”

“Whatever,” Dean huffed. They watched several minutes in silence, and Dean was trying to come up with something funny to say about the show, something that would show Cas that it wasn’t a big deal to be watching it.

“Dean.”

“What?”

“What do you think of the lead actor?”

Dean scoffed, trying to hide his embarrassment with that. “I dunno. He’s okay, I guess. Kind of wooden.”

“You don’t think his looks make up for it?”

Dean’s heart leaped to his throat, and he stubbornly stared at the screen as he said, “I don’t know, Cas. I’m not gay.”

Cas sighed. “Whatever you say, Dean,” he finally said, looking away. Dean instantly felt awful, for a number of reasons; Cas was probably thinking about “Meg” and how much he’d rather be talking about _Doctor Sexy_ with “her”. At least with “Meg”, Cas could’ve joked about Doctor Sexy’s sexiness, whereas with plain old Dean… they had nothing to say on that subject.

Dean kind of resented “Meg” for that. He wanted to enjoy the show and answer Cas’s questions honestly, even gush over the storylines and actors (and maybe some actors’ attractive features), but he… he couldn’t.

It was just too embarrassing.

Dean felt uncomfortable watching the show with Cas, and he spent a lot more time simply watching Cas’s reactions. Cas didn’t say anything, until the episode ended, and even then, he asked if Dean wanted to change the channel. Dean shrugged, leaving the choice to Cas, and he switched to the news. They watched that in silence, and when the broadcast ended, Cas turned to face Dean.

“It’s getting late.” Cas yawned. “I should go.”

“You know you can just use my couch,” Dean said. He didn’t know whether he was nervous or excited to say that, but more importantly, he always said that to Cas, and he couldn’t skip that now.

Castiel shook his head. “Thank you, but I really need to get home.”

“You alright to drive?”

“I only had one glass of wine, Dean. I think I’ll be okay.” Castiel smiled.

They brought their plates and glasses back to the kitchen, and after that, Cas started to pull on his trench coat and look for his car keys. Dean didn’t know what to say as he watched Cas get ready to leave, so he said nothing; he leant on the kitchen doorframe and just watched as Castiel checked his pockets twice before finally locating his keys.

“Thank you for the food, Dean. It was excellent, as always.”

“You’ll eat anything I make,” Dean quipped.

“Everything you make is good.”

Dean snorted. “Doubt it, but thanks.”

Castiel smiled at him again, and Dean found himself smiling back. As if they were moving as one, Castiel opened his arms and Dean stepped closer, sliding his hands around Castiel and pulling him close. Castiel’s hug was firm, warm, and most of all, it made Dean feel safe – there was that odd quality to Cas’s hugs that no one else had, except maybe his mother. Dean pressed closer, enjoying the warmth, and felt Castiel’s cheek slide against his. Surprisingly, Castiel only held him closer, tightening the hug, and Dean gladly accepted it and let his chin fall on Cas’s shoulder. The curly strands behind Cas’s ears tickled the side of Dean’s face, but he hardly noticed it. They stayed close for a long time, just enjoying each other’s warmth, until Dean noticed that the hug was fast approaching those way too long hugs they’d shared back in college, when one of then was missing home and needed someone’s touch – those hugs that had, frankly, skated on the line of friendship. Dean thought back to those touches, and burrowed closer.

Just then, Castiel let him go and stepped back, a soft smile on his face.

“See you on Friday,” Castiel said, and before Dean could answer that, he’d already stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

Dean stood in the hallway for a long, long while, staring at the door and replaying in his head what it had felt like to be held in Castiel’s arms, until he violently crushed the images. So what if his face had heated up during that hug? So what if Cas had starred in one or two or a dozen of Dean’s fantasies, and in a few wet dreams he’d thought he was too old to have? That didn’t mean anything. That meant absolutely nothing, it shouldn’t mean anything, and it _didn’t_ mean anything.

Except it meant that Dean was getting _stupid_ with this whole thing, and had to keep his _stupid_ thoughts to himself. Cas wouldn’t want to hear any of them, and Dean was just seeing things that weren’t there.

Dean sighed, and headed back to the couch to see if he could find a rerun of last night’s _Doctor Sexy_ episode.

 

* * *

 

Dean feared that his weird interactions with Cas on Wednesday would creep into their text discussions, but that didn’t happen. Cas and “Meg” continued to text on Thursday, and Cas didn’t even mention meeting Dean to “Meg”. Momentarily, Dean felt hurt because of that, but that was all forgotten when Cas initiated another conversation with “Meg.” Again, they sent little slices of their lives to each other, funny little commentaries, or thoughts. Sometimes, they continued their discussions about TV shows they both watched – even _Doctor Sexy_ , which made Dean feel slightly wistful that he could talk about that with Cas as himself – or commented on the news.

Dean hadn’t had such a close connection with Cas since their college days, when they’d seen each other every day, and he found that he had missed it. Sure, they were close and had talked about everything even before this whole escapade had started, but as the years had gone by, obligations that came with adult life had started to claim more and more of their time, and seeing each other every day just wasn’t feasible anymore. It had been too easy to settle into the rhythm where they saw each other two times a week, maybe, if they were lucky, and exchanged a text here and there – it was easy, because neither of them ever challenged the status quo. Dean had missed being able to talk Cas like this, like there were no walls between them, and he relished the fact that he now could text random thoughts to Cas and not be judged.

On Friday, Dean arrived to the Roadhouse at the usual time. He looked around as he stepped inside, and spotted Charlie by the counter, casually leaning on it and talking with Jo. They were leaning close to each other, their foreheads almost touching, but neither of them seemed to mind that intimate position; rather, they gravitated towards each other, a happy glow surrounding them. Charlie said something, and Jo laughed, knocking her forehead against Charlie’s, and made Charlie beam with delight. Charlie looked happier than when Dean had asked her to explain her fascination with Harry Potter, and he’d never seen _anyone_ gush that much over anything for three hours. If Jo had reached that status, she must have done something amazing to deserve it.

Dean didn’t dare to bother them, and made his way to the booth, where Castiel was already sitting, with three beers on the table. They all were the same brand that Charlie had ordered last week, and with a sigh, Dean sat down.

“This crap again?” he asked.

Castiel snorted. “I think Jo’s giving her a discount on these.”

“Or then she’s a damn good saleswoman.” Dean settled on his seat and glanced at Castiel. He looked the same as ever, although there were dark patches under his eyes, implying that he hadn’t slept much last night; the ever-present bags under his eyes only got more pronounced when he was tired.

“So, how’re you?” Dean asked, and even to his ears, that sounded awkward. Castiel didn’t mind it, though.

“Fine,” he shrugged. “A little tired. I stayed up too long last night.”

“Why, you got company?” Dean asked, a nervous stammer somewhere in his tone.

“Not physically, no. But in spirit,” Castiel smiled.

“Ah, right. How’s it going with Meg?” Dean forced himself to ask. He didn’t think his smile was convincing, but Castiel answered it all the same.

“Jealous, are you?” Cas teased. “For once, it’s going really well. She’s very interesting to talk to. Intelligent. Kind. Witty.”

“Sounds… awesome,” Dean said. “So, you still text?”

“Every day,” Castiel said with a smile. It was soft, and perhaps a little bit smitten, and suddenly, Dean hated “Meg” from the bottom of his heart. He hated that “Meg” got that smile, and he hated the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it. He’d dug this hole all by himself, and now he was stuck being “Meg”, because Castiel wouldn’t have anything to do with plain old Dean.

“You ever consider meeting her?” Dean asked, before he realized just how stupid that had been – what if Cas actually considered the idea?

Castiel looked at him, thoughtfully. There was something sad about his eyes, but Dean didn’t understand why.

“I don’t know. For now, I think we’ll just stick to text messages. She’s busy, and I’m busy.”

“With preparing for that teachers’ congress, right?”

Castiel blinked, and Dean suddenly remembered that Cas hadn’t told that to Dean – he’d talked about it with “Meg”. Panicking, Dean tried to come up with a lie, but to his relief, Castiel didn’t notice his slip-up.

“Yes. It’s taking more time than I had expected.”

It was unnerving. It was becoming hard for Dean to keep track of what Castiel had told “Meg” and what he sometimes told Dean, and Dean desperately wished that he didn’t _have_ _to_ keep track of that.

“Well, uh, good luck to that,” Dean said.

“Maybe I’ll ask her out, when that’s finished,” Castiel mused. “We’ve been talking a lot, but… It’s not the same thing as seeing someone’s face.”

“True,” Dean said, unable to mask the bitterness from his voice. Cas looked at him, eyebrows raised, and Dean continued, “I mean, you said she’s constantly busy, so… Maybe she doesn’t want to meet up?”

Castiel looked down. “That’s a possibility, yes.”

“Um. Sorry?”

“Don’t apologize,” Cas said. “That’s her decision.”

Dean blinked. “You really like this girl, don’t you?”

Castiel only smiled, and it felt as if someone had reached through his ribcage and coldly grasped at Dean’s heart. Dean didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want Cas and “Meg” to meet, because how on earth could he ever arrange that, but on the other hand… he desperately wanted to be “Meg” and be able to meet Cas. He wanted to be that “Meg” who got Castiel’s soft smiles and laughs, and he wanted to that “Meg” who got to sit beside Cas as he made fun of stupid movies and corrected people when they mispronounced loanwords from French and explained the etymology behind the words.

Dean bitterly swallowed. Telling Cas the truth was out of the question at this stage. Dean would just have to keep going, as long as he could.

“Good for you,” Dean managed to say. Luckily, he didn’t have to say anything else, because Charlie plopped into view right then, a wide grin on her face.

“What’s up, bitches?”

“Why is that word okay when you say it?” Dean muttered.

“The key word is ‘timing’, Dean,” Charlie proclaimed.

“You’re in a good mood,” Castiel observed.

“Hell yeah! Third date with Jo yesterday, and we had lunch together today.” She smiled, dreamily. “This is it. I’ve finally found my Hermione.”

“Uh, before you go all Ron on her, maybe slow down a bit,” Dean said. He realized how hypocritical it was of him to spout advice like that, but at least Charlie didn’t know about the web he’d managed to weave and get tangled all by himself.

“Never.”

“I still haven’t seen the movies,” Cas said. “And I don’t intend to,” he continued when Charlie opened her mouth. “The books were enough for me, thank you.”

That was such a Cas-like thing to say that Dean’s chest ached with affection.


	4. Chapter 4

Charlie held LARP and/or Dungeons and Dragons events every other Saturday, and ever since she’d roped Dean into attending the first one, Dean had become a fixture at the gatherings. Thus, even if Dean didn’t feel like he had the energy or interest to go to Charlie’s, he always did, because it wasn’t like they held epic battles outside every time; sometimes, they just chilled in Charlie’s apartment, played D&D, and occasionally, didn’t even feel the need to do that, and just talked or watched whatever show someone suggested. The gatherings weren’t that large, even: people came and went, but there were always ten people at maximum in Charlie’s apartment. (Which was a relief to all, since Charlie’s apartment was so small.)

This was the first time Dean had seen Jo at Charlie’s, however. She looked a bit out of place in the midst of all the people who already knew each other, and Charlie was too busy playing host in the kitchen to notice her plight. Jo was standing on the edge of the living room/Charlie’s bedroom (the mattress was pushed up against the wall, so it was a living room at the moment), and half-heartedly talking to Garth. Dean decided to play the hero and save her; Garth was a nice guy when you got to know him, but probably too overwhelming for Jo to handle if she was meeting him for the first time.

Garth lightened up and eagerly greeted Dean when he took a place next to Jo, but wandered off after a few minutes of small talk; he sensed that Dean wanted to talk to Jo, as well.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” Dean teased, when Garth had left.

Jo huffed. “What, is that a problem?”

“Not at all. The more, the merrier, or something.” Dean observed Jo for a while, and the slight blush on her cheeks. It suddenly clicked Dean that Jo was nervous. She was probably meeting Charlie’s friends for the first time – well, those who didn’t frequent Roadhouse, anyway.

“You’re gonna do fine,” Dean said. Jo blinked at him. “They’re all nerds, but they’re fine.”

“ _You’re_ a nerd.”

“And fine.”

Jo guffawed. “Keep dreaming, Winchester.”

They stayed quiet for a moment after that, watching the others in the room. Charlie was whirring around, talking to everyone and keeping everyone happy, smiling as she went. Jo watched her with a gentle smile on her face.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Dean asked.

Jo shrugged, but the small smile hadn’t disappeared, which told Dean everything he needed to know.

“Right.” Dean coughed. “Not gonna ask about this ever again. Just, you know, Charlie’s like a sister to me, and you’re… my friend… so…”

“I know, I know,” Jo said. “Won’t hurt her. Come on, Dean, what do you think I’m like?”

“Uh.”

“That was rhetorical.”

“Okay, phew, good. I wasn’t sure you would’ve liked my answer.”

Jo punched him in the arm. “Stop being an ass or you won’t be invited to the wedding.”

Dean groaned. “Oh, god, not you too. You two really are made for each other.”

Jo just grinned at that.

When Dean returned from Charlie’s, he was exhausted. It had been fun, yes, and the board game they’d played this time (Settles of Catan) had been especially fun, but Charlie and the constant flurry of her other friends was sometimes too much for Dean to bear. As always, Charlie had invited Cas, but predictably, Cas had bowed out, once again. Any other time Dean would be annoyed about it and would’ve vowed to get Cas next time, but today, Dean was kind of glad that he didn’t have to see Cas face to face. It was becoming a problem, but he almost preferred the fake intimacy of “Meg” and Cas’s relationship to what Cas had with plain old Dean.

Dean reheated some macaroni he’d made earlier that week, and collapsed on the kitchen chair while waited for the microwave to ping. Cas had sent “Meg” a few texts during the day, continuing their discussion about _Sentido_ , but Dean had nothing to add to that subject, so he wrote:

_Back home. Phew._

_Did you visit your brother again?_

_Friends, this time. Fun, but exhausting._

_:)_

Dean smiled involuntarily. Trust Cas to send him one emoji that somehow conveyed everything.

Dean made himself a dinner and then settled on the couch to watch _Sentido_ with Cas, which had already become their little ritual by now. The show aired at such odd times since it was aimed at a niche audience, but Dean was already hooked on it and tried to watch every episode. It was just a continuous onslaught of ludicrous plot twists and turns that you couldn’t help but love it. This time, the most amazing plot twist happened only three minutes in: two characters decided to have sex in an abandoned warehouse in a very odd pose, despite the fact that they’d despised each other just two episodes prior. It was bewildering.

 _That looks uncomfortable_ , Dean sent Cas.

_Seems unwise, yes. Especially at that location._

_Hell on your back._

Cas didn’t answer for a moment – probably concentrating on the show just like Dean – but after a while, a new message arrived.

_Is there something you’ve always wanted to try?_

Dean lifted his brows. That seemed oddly intrusive, though they’d talked about much kinkier subjects before. But Cas didn’t know that it was Dean who he was talking to… Dean mused for a moment and then chose to speak his mind.

 _Never tried anal_ , Dean finally sent to Cas.

_Really?_

_Never had a chance for that._

_Anything else?_

Even though Cas couldn’t see him, Dean stiffened. This was a little too close for comfort, hitting a little too close to that area that Dean tried to avoid.

There were a lot of things Dean wanted to try, or that he missed doing. Cas had accidentally stumbled on lots of Dean’s kinks, but he hadn’t introduced Dean to all. For one, Dean missed wearing panties. It wasn’t even a sexual thing, except when it was – there were times when he simply needed the comfort, the softness, and the pretty patterns. He didn’t mind wearing boxers or briefs, but they weren’t… interesting. They were comfortable, and that was it – they were meant to be used, not admired.

Dean couldn’t mention that to Cas, though, because “Meg” would obviously wear panties all the time, and it’d seem weird if she suddenly complained about boxers. Silently, Dean decided in his mind that he’d start wearing panties again, if only just inside his apartment. He wouldn’t dare to venture anywhere else in them, but his apartment was a safe zone.

Maybe… maybe he could try it now? Just to see what it felt like?

Dean got up, glancing at his cell. He’d answer Cas in a minute, but before that, there was something he wanted to do.

Dean walked to his bedroom and stood in front of the drawer for a moment before finally opening the lowest drawer. Buried in the midst of an unsorted pile of underwear, there were his treasured secrets. He had always been wary of going to lingerie stores or even regular Wal-Mart, because it always felt like the clerks knew whom he was really buying the panties for and judged him for it. That’s why he only had four pairs, all bought years ago, and he hadn’t replaced the ones that he had worn out and thrown away. Dean picked up his favorite, a pair with simple but elegant design; they were satin, had black lace on the waistline, and a color pattern of a blue galaxy in the front. For a long while, he just held them in his hands, fingers smoothing over the lace and getting used to the feel again.

He couldn’t let what had happened with Lisa stop him from wearing things that he enjoyed. Lisa had been too freaked out and found his likes odd or shameful, and little by little, Dean had dropped everything, just to keep Lisa happy, because they worked well otherwise. Lisa had been charming, nice and intelligent, but they hadn’t worked together between the sheets at all.

Dean had thought that Lisa would’ve understood, because their relationship had started as a one-weekend marathon sex romp, and Dean had picked Lisa up while wearing a pair of lacy green panties. Lisa had seen them on Dean on the first night, hadn’t commented on them, and hadn’t mentioned it again, so Dean had thought they were all good. When they’d started seeing each other and gotten into a relationship, suddenly it hadn’t been okay anymore. Lisa had said she’d thought Dean had been wearing them because of a dare, and couldn’t understand what appealed to Dean about them otherwise. So, Dean had stopped wearing panties, thinking that if he had to give up something, it might as well be this. Their relationship was going good otherwise, and for once, Dean actually _liked_ someone enough to stay, and he’d figured that giving up one kink was a good price for that.

But then their disagreements had spread to everything else: Lisa didn’t like it when Dean wasn’t taking control during sex, and when he did, she complained that he was too rough. When Dean suggested that maybe Lisa should take the lead, she did, but it was horrible – she didn’t understand why Dean wanted it rougher, or why Dean liked to be bitten or scratched. It led to them both being unsatisfied: Dean because it was too boring for him, and Lisa because she was uncomfortable with what Dean wanted, and subsequently, they were both annoyed that they couldn’t fulfill the other’s needs. The last drop for Lisa had been when she’d walked in on Dean using her lube and fingering himself – he’d simply wanted to know what it felt like, since anal was the kinkiest thing that Lisa liked, and to his surprise, he’d found that he liked it. The enjoyment had ended the moment Lisa walked to their bedroom and found Dean, and surmised that maybe Dean didn’t need a _girlfriend_ to fulfill his needs. Just remembering that cold tone still haunted Dean’s dreams.

Dean smoothed his hands over the panties, gathering courage. He thought of Lisa and the rejection he’d gotten, but slowly, his mind started fill with other kinds of pictures: what would Cas say if he saw Dean in panties? Would he like it if “Meg” sent him a picture of them? It was entirely hypothetical, because Cas would never see Dean in panties, wouldn’t want to, and “Meg” wasn’t real, but somehow, thinking of Cas’s texts and how he’d once described ripping off a girl’s panties made Dean feel better and surer of himself, when he pictured himself there. He wanted to wear the panties, and he liked it, that was the bottom line. Screw Lisa and everyone else who made him feel like a freak for it.

Mind made up, Dean stripped, throwing his jeans and t-shirt on the bed and sliding off his plaid boxers that started to feel more and more uncomfortable with every second. He gingerly stepped into the panties and slid them up slowly, enjoying the feel of them against his legs. Once they were in place, he gently pushed the rim, trying to tuck his balls comfortably in. That took a little wiggling, but once he found a good position, the panties fit him like a glove.

Dean took a breath and opened the wardrobe door. There was a full-length mirror on the other side, and hesitantly, Dean looked at himself. He was a little pink, and his leg hair looked very unflattering against the fancy panties, but otherwise… He thought he looked good. The panties hugged his figure, fit him perfectly, and Dean twirled around to get a look at his backside. Slowly, a small smile made its way on his lips.

He looked good, and he couldn’t wait to show Cas this. Only on his way back to the living room did he remember that he couldn’t – the second he sent Cas a picture, it would be game over. Cas would know him anywhere, and even if he didn’t recognize Dean’s ass, he’d still recognize that it wasn’t a woman’s.

Though, that didn’t stop him from _telling_ Cas what he was wearing. Despite Cas’s recent visit and the ensuing awkwardness, Dean sat down on the couch again and relaxed against the backrest, and then opened his phone.

 _Ask me what I’m wearing_ , Dean texted Cas.

_What are you wearing?_

_Nothing but my blue panties ;)_

_Now that’s a very nice image._

_Whatcha gonna do about it?_

_I want you to tell me what you want. What would you want to try?_

They hadn’t done this before – Cas had always taken the lead, with little prompting from Dean. And Dean absolutely hadn’t minded that, since Cas seemed to hit every single one of his kinks, but…

He probably would never get another chance like this. Cas would never know that what Dean described were _his_ fantasies, not “Meg’s”.

_How do you feel about teacher fantasies?_

_I believe you’ve already told me one._

Then, just when Dean finished reading the message, another arrived: _You have more than one?_

_Wouldn’t you like to know._

_Actually, I would._

_If I tell you one, I want you to do something._

_Of course?_

_I want you to touch yourself, too._

A minute ticked by, and Dean started to squirm on his seat. He didn’t want to make Cas uncomfortable, and he feared that he’d crossed some odd line here. Then, a text arrived, and Dean could breathe again. There was a picture attached. That was new. Dean opened it, and very nearly dropped his phone.

It was a picture of Cas touching himself – the picture focused on his cock, standing full-mast, and Cas’s hand wrapped around it. Precome was glistening on the head of his cock, and Dean abruptly felt the need to reach through the screen and lick it.

_What makes you think I’m not?_

_christ, cas_

_so tell me_

_okay. I’m no good with words tho sorry_

_let me be the judge of that._

Dean took a breath and wrote everything down and sent it before he could regret it.

_I’ve been a bad student, Mr. Novak. I wanna suck you off so much that I’ve been flirting with you for the entire class. I’ve mouthed you off and you’ve told me to stay after class. Not gonna listen to you still. I just wanna suck you off. What will you do about it?_

Cas, mercifully, took over after that.

_I’d push you backwards, until you’d hit the wall. I’d kiss you, just to shut you up._

_Still gonna mutter obscenities at you_ , Dean sent, grinning. The panties were starting to really strain against his crotch, the head of his cock peeking out, but Dean just squirmed on his seat, resolved to keep his hands to himself until this was over.

 _I’d swallow your words right out of your mouth,_ Cas countered. _Kiss you until you were weak in the knees. Then, I’d push you down, make you kneel in front of me. Is that okay?_

_YES_

_Then, making sure with my hands that you couldn’t move, I’d make you open your pretty mouth. I’d push my cock in, fuck your face fast and harsh, until you could barely breathe._

_Fuck yes_ , Dean wrote. He gasped at the image; Cas holding his face, pressing him against the wall, and using his mouth. His breathing labored and he squirmed again, trying to find a good spot, while his cock ached for a touch. Dean kept his hands on the phone, and kept imagining Cas above him, head thrown back in pleasure.

 _Are you touching yourself?_ Cas sent him, then, and Dean almost laughed.

_No_

_Why not?_

_Didn’t tell me to_

_Fuck_

_What?_

_You’re amazing. Go ahead, touch yourself. I want you to come_

Dean did just that; he shoved a hand inside his panties, and harshly tugged himself.

_I’d keep fucking your face, holding that pretty face, until I’d be on the verge of coming. Then, I’d pull out, and come all over your beautiful face._

That one picture was it: Dean groaned, and came. His panties were soaked in come, but he couldn’t really give a damn, floating in euphoria.

_jfc. Thanks, cas._

_You did so well, gorgeous._

Dean flushed, and couldn’t explain why that simple sentence felt so damn great.

 _Wish I could see you_ , Cas sent him then, and Dean’s heart instantly plummeted.

He didn’t answer that. What could’ve he said? _I wish that, too?_ There was no reason for “Meg” to not show herself to Cas, and Dean couldn’t think a way around it. His heart ached, but there was no explanation he could offer to Cas.

 _Wish you were here_ , Dean finally sent. At least he wasn’t lying there.

 

* * *

 

Sam called Dean Sunday morning, before Dean even had a chance to turn his brain online. It took him almost a full minute to understand what his awful brother was talking about (because whoever woke up Dean in the middle of a great dream involving him and Cas in a bathtub was automatically on his shit list), but finally, Dean remembered that his mother had arrived in town last night, and was currently staying at Sam and Sarah’s. Sam told Dean to come to dinner, like usual, and after a few chosen expletives, Dean agreed. Then he shut his phone and threw it to the other side of the bed, and went back to sleep for another hour, attempting to re-create the dream from earlier.

It didn’t work, and Dean was in a sour mood when he woke up the second time and tumbled into a shower. However, his mood improved when he saw that Castiel had texted him during the night: _good morning. How’re you feeling?_

It was just common courtesy, Dean knew that, but it still made his stomach flutter.

 _Great_ , Dean sent Cas. Then he elaborated, _thanks to you._

_I’m glad :)_

At three, Dean left to Sam and Sarah’s, both excited to see his mother again and a little nervous that he’d need to keep a lid on such huge things that had happened to him recently. This time, Dean was more careful. Because he didn’t want to even battle the temptation, he bravely left his work cell at home and only took his personal cell. It felt odd to carry only one phone, despite it being the norm before this whole thing had started, and Dean drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as he drove to Sam and Sarah’s place. It felt like he’d forgotten something important, and he kept feeling his jacket pocket for his work phone, but after the third time or so, he turned the radio on as a distraction and convinced himself to stop thinking about it.

For once, Sarah had wanted to cook (she had even promised to keep Sam out of the kitchen), but in spite of her insistence, Dean had made dessert for them. He’d wanted to try his hand at tiramisu, and was happy with the result. His only concern was moving it, and he had carefully loaded it in the car and driven slower than usual to Sam and Sarah’s place.

Sarah opened the door again, and before she could prevent him, Bones ran out and jumped against Dean the moment he exited his car. Bones barked happily, trapping him against the car and giving him enough slobbery kisses to last a lifetime.

“Never stopped being gross,” Dean muttered. At least he’d had the foresight to keep the tiramisu in the car until after Bones’s greeting.

“Dean! I’m so sorry.” Sarah laughed. “He just really likes you.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Dean said, showing her his wet hand.

To his surprise, Mary wasn’t present; she’d apologized profusely, but she’d had to leave before twelve, and she wasn’t back yet. She hadn’t given an explanation, which led both Sam and Dean concluding that there was something very important going on.

“Maybe it’s related to that new boyfriend of hers,” Sam said, as they made the table. Dean shook his head.

“I still think you’re barking up the wrong tree, Sammy.”

“Well, what else would she be hiding?”

“What, like she’d hide something like that? We’re not five anymore, Sam, I think we can handle mommy’s new boyfriend.”

“Mature.” Sam rolled his eyes at the face Dean was making.

The atmosphere was subdued because Mary wasn’t there; Dean had looked forward to seeing her, and listening to Sam and Sarah’s descriptions wasn’t the same. At least their company was good, and Sarah’s cooking was great.

“You went to Charlie’s last night, right?” Sarah asked, when they sat down at the table to start the meal.

“Yup,” Dean said. “Oh, yeah. Jo was there, too.”

“Jo was there?”

“Yeah. Making new friends, apparently.”

Sam and Sarah shared a look. “They must be getting serious,” Sam commented, then.

“Charlie’s been much happier lately,” Sarah said. “Must be Jo’s influence.”

“That’s what a relationship does to you,” Sam said with a smile.

Dean tried to shake off the unfortunate implication that now he and Cas were the only single ones in their group, and that they both should really do something about it, lest they end up miserable and lonely forever. The ironic thing was that Dean had been trying to do something about Cas’s situation for years, and now that he finally succeeded, _he_ was the one suffering.

Dean pushed his thoughts aside. It wouldn’t do to think about Cas in front of Sam and Sarah, and besides, it was a little worrying how much Cas occupied of his brain space.

The dinner was uneventful, and Dean only barely managed to steer the conversation away from too much baby talk. He couldn’t escape Sam’s insistence on showing the nursery once again, and the incessant chatter about what Sam had added to the room and how he’d built a box for all the toys. Dean silently wished that the damn baby would be born already, because if this was how Sam behaved a few months into the pregnancy, he’d be a full-blown monster by the time the baby was due.

Dean managed to get as far as the corridor and tell Sam that he was leaving, but Sam just wouldn’t stop talking. Just when Dean was contemplating whether he fit through the bathroom window or if he should just go for the classic and walk away from Sam mid-sentence, the doorbell rang. Bones barked happily as Sarah opened the door.

“Dean!” Mary Winchester lunged from the door to hug her son, and laughing, Dean picked his mother up and twirled around two rounds, before putting her down. “It’s so good to see you. It’s been so long. I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“That’s okay.” Dean squeezed her shoulders affectionately. Mary looked well; her eyes were twinkling and she looked tired, but happy. “Had something important to do?”

“Very important,” Mary nodded. “I’ll tell you later. Now, tell me everything. How are you? What’ve you been up to lately?”

“Mom, I’m not saying I don’t wanna talk, but I was literally on my way out. It’s getting late.”

“I know. I’m sorry I was so late. But I’m not leaving until Thursday – how about a lunch tomorrow?”

“That works,” Dean smiled.

“Tomorrow won’t work for me,” Sarah said. “Is Tuesday alright?”

All agreed to that.

“Take Castiel with you,” Mary said. “I haven’t seen him in a year.”

“Of course,” Dean said. “I can promise for him. That nerd doesn’t have any plans on Tuesday.”

Mary laughed. “Still the same schedule as always?”

“As always,” Dean said. “I’ll ask if Charlie can come along, too,” he then added. Mary looked confused for a moment, for some reason, but then regained her warm expression.

“Of course. It would be lovely to see her again, as well.” She smiled. “Is she still working for the IRS?”

“Is that where she works?”

“Please,” Sarah and Sam said at the same time.

On his way back home, Dean stopped by a convenience store. He needed to buy food for next week, and his fridge was almost empty at this point.

When he walked past the personal hygiene aisle, something caught his eye. Sitting innocently on the shelf, tucked side by side, there was a line of different kinds of lube. Dean wouldn’t have noticed them otherwise, but ever since Cas had put the idea in his head… Even after what had happened with Lisa, or maybe to counter that awful experience, he kind of wanted to try it again.

Dean flushed. He was in the middle of a store, with several other customers walking past, and here he was staring at the lube section like a pervert. Not to mention, the images rushing through his mind were inappropriate for this kind of setting.

Though… that didn’t stop Dean from looking at the small bottles and considering how good it had felt, a lifetime ago, when he’d last fingered himself.

Was he really considering this?

Dean stared at the lube bottle, and the bottle seemed to stare back at him from the shelf. For such a small, inconspicuous bottle, it looked like it was furiously judging Dean; it was almost as if the bottle screamed, “the user of this bottle is not straight”. Although that was idiotic, and Dean knew it from first-hand experiences – straight couples used lube, too, as well as single people. Lube wasn’t tied to one’s sexuality, so it was stupid to be afraid of one small bottle.

It still seemed like it was mocking him; the letters were _too_ bright and claimed _too_ proudly what it was. It had been way too long since Dean had needed to buy lube, and now it seemed like an overwhelming task – not because he was ashamed of paying for it and the cashier’s judging look, but because of what it symbolized. The last time he’d used lube, he’d had to end a relationship, and he’d promptly buried all his needs with it.

Dean turned on his heels and walked away from the aisle. He could just… do it some other time. It wasn’t essential. Buying food, on the other hand, was very essential, and Dean concentrated on filling his basket with ingredients for making pesto.

Five minutes later, Dean hastily came back and shoved a bottle of AstroGlide to the bottom of his basket.

Dean fidgeted on his way home, and when he put the groceries away, he left the bottle of lube last, meaning that it stood on his kitchen table like a goddamn beacon. Dean glanced at it, mind whirring, and then finally decided that he may as well face this challenge headfirst. He checked his work cell, but Castiel hadn’t texted “Meg” in a while, so Dean put the phone away and grabbed the lube.

It was already ten, so Dean acted like he was going to bed: he brushed his teeth, cleaned his hands (perhaps more thoroughly than usual) and changed into his sleeping t-shirt before laying down. He took a breath, and then took the lube from his nightstand, inspecting it warily before opening the cap and squeezing some on his fingers.

It felt weird, and Dean couldn’t think of better position, so he stayed on his back, and then bravely jabbed his fingers against his hole. The motion sparked something in him, and he groaned, eager for more. Slowly, he circled his rim, before easing his way inside, attempting to slide the finger as far as it would go. Only, he was so tense that it didn’t work; huffing, Dean circled his forefinger and tried again, pushing in. When it started to hurt, Dean hissed and withdrew his fingers a bit. He tried again, slower, but again, it hurt, and he only got tenser.

This wasn’t working. Dean couldn’t relax enough to get a single digit inside, and so far, the only thing he felt was frustration and pain. Maybe he should just stop and never try this again.

But then he thought back to how it had felt the first time, and trying to calm down, Dean took a breath. He just… needed to take this slow. Slower than he’d anticipated. Much, much slower.

Dean started over. He withdrew his fingers completely and squeezed a lot more lube on them. He warmed it up for a while, toying with it with his fingers, and then snorted at the action with childish glee. Then, after three deep breaths, he very slowly started to circle his rim, not entering, just getting the feel of it. The pressure felt good, so he experimented with that, pressing different spots with varying pressure, and gasped when a touch felt better than others.

It was still slow, and annoyed, Dean tried to press harder, but had to stop that. He drew a breath and tried again, softer. Maybe this would feel better with a few of his usual fantasies… or a partner… Cas would be a considerate lover, he was sure of that. Based on their text messages, Cas already was, maybe even too considerate. Cas would be patient with Dean, calm him down when Dean got frustrated and couldn’t get a finger inside. Cas would touch him with sure, warm hands, tease his opening until all the worries would melt away from Dean’s body.

The pad of his finger slipped inside, almost without Dean noticing. Dean sighed, chasing the good feeling, and his breath stuttered when he found a great spot to rub. Dean’s eyes had closed again, and he thought of the way Cas would look at him with that unwavering focus, his eyes never leaving Dean’s as he would teasingly tug at Dean’s rim. Cas would slide his fingers slowly farther, prod at the walls, get to know each different gasp and breath Dean would take with different touches.

Dean worked a whole finger inside of him, and slowly started to slide it in and out. He gradually worked up the correct speed, and found what angles he liked. When he located his prostate, he gasped and his back arched with pleasure. He thought of Cas, how Cas would grin at him and then mercilessly press on his prostate. The pressure inside Dean built and coiled, and he was suddenly hard and ready to come any second. He sneaked his other hand around his cock, thinking of how warm Cas’s hand would feel around it. He continued to finger his prostate, heat spreading all over him, and he thought how Cas would look at him adoringly. Cas would kiss him like he meant something.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, and came.

Dean laid there gasping for breath for a long time, his mind void of anything. He couldn’t even muster up energy to go get a washcloth, so he wiped his hand on his t-shirt and decided to deal with it tomorrow.

Then he gulped.

Well. That was a thing that happened.

The stakes were suddenly through the roof, and Dean couldn’t even remember his initial goal anymore, because there was no denying that he’d just jerked off to thoughts of his best friend, with no prompting whatsoever. He couldn’t cite Cas’s dirty messages as the catalyst, and he couldn’t hide behind “Meg’s” shadow. He couldn’t blame Castiel’s disturbingly well-crafted erotica, and he couldn’t claim that he’d been trying to prove something to Cas. No, this one was completely on Dean. Dean had just touched himself, thinking about his best friend, and he’d _liked_ it.

It wasn’t like it was the first time, Dean’s traitorous mind reminded him. For a brief time, in college, he’d… thought of Cas, like that. For a brief time, he’d tried to test the waters, see if there was anywhere he could get with Cas, but when nothing had come out of it, Dean did what he did best: he repressed the hell out of it.

Taking his college self’s advice, Dean did just that. He put the lube in the middle drawer of his nightstand, and slammed it resolutely shut.

 

* * *

 

Dean went through the motions, attempting to ignore the incident, not thinking about Castiel any more than strictly necessary – which was challenging, given that he still carried on the discussion between Cas and “Meg” whenever he had time. The nagging realization simply wouldn’t go away, though; it was like a rhythm tapping at his temple, a heartbeat pounding in his mind, telling him that he liked Castiel, wanted to be with Castiel, and that complicated things. He both looked forward to and dreaded Tuesday’s dinner, and couldn’t decide did he want Castiel to abruptly cancel or not.

Dean had suggested just going to Roadhouse Bar & Grill, but Sam had vetoed that, and had chosen a far classier Italian restaurant downtown. The choice would’ve never even occurred to Dean, and the place looked much fancier than what Dean usually frequented – he’d gone to a lot of classy places with clients who preferred to eat out, and Dean had found that few of those places were worth their reputation. Although, he comforted himself, Italian food was usually hard to screw up. If nothing else, he was guaranteed an adequate meal, and great company.

His nervousness was instantly replaced with happiness as Dean met his mother by the door. It had been too long since he’d really gotten to talk with his mother, and she looked even more radiant than usual – happier than last time he’d seen her. Sam and Sarah arrived just then, and they all spent a few minutes with simple small talk, until a few minutes turned into ten.

“Cas is late,” Sarah commented. Dean was glad that someone else said that, since he was getting worried; Cas wasn’t usually late for anything.

“Maybe teenagers are keeping him hostage?” Dean joked.

“There he is,” Mary said. Castiel was jogging down the street, maroon red tie hanging after him and the trench coat flapping open, and there was a pink flush on his cheeks. Dean convinced himself that he wasn’t staring.

“You’re late!” Sam yelled, but it was good-natured.

“Apologies,” Castiel panted, and Dean tried to tell himself that Cas’s short breath shouldn’t bring up _any_ kind of images to his mind. “I got held up.”

“So you _were_ kidnapped by a team of ruthless teenagers,” Sam said, grinning at Dean’s direction.

“Hardly. Unless asking about E. E. Cummings is considered a kidnapping. Besides, wouldn’t a group of teenagers be ‘adultnapping’ me?”

“Dork,” Dean muttered under his breath. Mary stepped forward then, pulling Castiel in a hug.

“Castiel, it’s good to see you.”

“You too. It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Mary said as they separated. “Dean told me you’re preparing for a teacher’s conference?”

“Yes, it’s been keeping me busy for a while.”

“Still live in the same apartment?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, eyes twinkling. “Until I find a better place.”

Mary shook her head, as if to say she couldn’t believe he hadn’t found anything better yet. Dean kind of understood his mother’s apprehension for Cas’s apartment – it wasn’t like it was awful, but it was an old building and poorly situated, and Cas had only gotten it because the rent was so low. Castiel had been saving for a house of his own ever since college, and at this point, Dean mused that it wasn’t about the savings anymore; Cas could’ve easily gotten a loan, but none of the houses he ever saw managed to satisfy his absurdly high standards. Dean had no idea what he was looking for, but apparently it was impossible to find.

“Shall we?” Sarah asked, gesturing towards the doors, and the others followed her example.

“Hi, Cas,” Dean muttered, realizing that he was the only one who hadn’t yet greeted Cas. Castiel turned to him and gave him a blinding smile, and Dean’s stomach flipped, despite whatever his brain told it.

“Hello, Dean.”

Let’s get this over with, Dean thought. He braced himself, turned away from Cas, and walked into the restaurant.

They were led to a round table at the corner of the restaurant, and somehow, Dean ended up with Cas on his left and Mary on his right, while Sam and Sarah sat on the other side. The restaurant looked nice enough, and the menu looked delicious, but Dean could hardly concentrate on that. Dean’s eyes kept tracking Castiel’s hands and the way his finger glided on the letters as he read, and when the waiter came to ask for their choices, Dean chose the first lasagna his eyes landed on. He steeled himself and told himself to focus.

It worked for a while, when he talked with Mary, and asked about her work in the hospital and she told tragicomic stories about the patients. But after some time, when the topics shifted from Mary’s work to Castiel’s and then to Sam’s, Dean found himself slipping. At some point, after their meals had arrived, Sarah was telling some funny story about Bones, and Dean couldn’t bring himself to listen. He was hyperaware of Castiel sitting on his left side. It wasn’t uncomfortable like last Wednesday when Cas had come over and they’d sat on the couch, but Dean still felt Castiel’s presence in a way he hadn’t ever felt before; the heat coming off of him, the way his elbow nearly touched Dean’s, the way his lips curved into a tiny smile. Dean thought he could’ve spent a hundred years studying Castiel, and it wouldn’t have been enough to categorize all the little expressions he had.

“Dean?”

Dean had been thinking about Castiel’s hands under the table, and how easy it would’ve been to slip a hand into his lap, and was rudely pulled from this daydream.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“There’s something I wanted to say,” Mary said. She looked around the table, and Dean realized that she was about to make her big announcement. “I’m moving here.”

“What?” Sam called.

“I didn’t want to say anything until it was all confirmed, but I’ve found a job, and I signed a lease just this morning to a new apartment,” Mary said. Dean broke into a huge grin.

“Mom, that’s amazing!”

Sarah and Castiel politely congratulated her right away, but Sam seemed to have trouble with the news. He gaped at his mother, trying to rearrange his thoughts.

“I—we thought you had a new boyfriend!”

“You thought,” Dean corrected.

“Me?” Mary laughed. “Oh, Sam, sweetheart. That’s a lovely idea, but I don’t think so. I’m better off alone.”

“But… it sounded like…” Sam fell silent. “Well. This is embarrassing.”

“What kind of a lawyer are you?” Dean teased. “Can’t even detect the truth? And I totally called this.”

“Don’t break your arm jerking yourself off there,” Sam muttered, and Sarah giggled at her. “It’s not that funny, Sarah.”

“It’s a little funny,” Mary said, her eyes twinkling. “But no. I’m moving here, because I want to be near you.”

“Mom…”

“Sam, you and Sarah are starting a family. I want to see my grandchild – or children – grow. And I want to be more involved in your life again.” She smiled, gently. “Is that so bad?”

“Of course not,” Sam said. He took Mary’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s amazing, really. We’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.”

Dean couldn’t help but ask. “What about… dad?”

Mary waved her hand. “John and I are on good terms. We speak every now and then, but… This has nothing to do with him.”

“Congratulations,” Castiel said again. “Does this call for champagne?”

“I think it does,” Sam said. “Great idea.”

As they toasted, Dean realized something. Sam and Sarah were sitting on the other side of the table, and he was sitting with Castiel on the other side, with Mary between them all. He thought that it felt like Castiel was his date, in the same way Sarah was Sam’s. Furthermore, he _wanted_ it to be that way.

The champagne tasted bitter with that realization. He was so screwed.

 

* * *

 

The sour mood the happy family dinner had inadvertently created carried on to Thursday, and although Dean didn’t want it to, it affected his work. He’d ignored Cas’s texts all day and hadn’t even texted him “good night” last night, and even though Cas had kept sending him texts, he didn’t open those and tried to push it all away from his mind. It didn’t make him feel better, but neither did his work, and as the day went by, the more frustrated Dean became. The absolutely last straw was Dean’s boss yelling to him at a meeting about a failed project, and although Dean tried at first to protest that it wasn’t his fault that the deal had gone sour, that only added fuel to the fire, until Mr. Adler was as red in the face as a beetroot and everyone in the room feared that he’d suffer a heart attack any second.

He didn’t, but that didn’t make Dean feel any better. Dean left work as soon as he could and slumped on the living room couch when he got home. He sat there for a long while, almost half an hour, without doing anything and attempting to think about nothing, but that was a doomed effort: he couldn’t stop feeling like everything was collapsing on him, work stress and now the Cas situation on top of everything.

Sighing, Dean dug his work cell from his pocket – he was still wearing the suit he was required to wear at work and hadn’t bothered to take off the jacket – and quickly wrote a message to Cas.

_can you entertain me?_

Cas’s answer came quickly, and went right to the root of the problem: _What’s wrong?_

_Had an epically crappy day at work and I need a distraction before I claw my eyes out_

_:( What happened?_

Dean paused to think. He couldn’t tell what had really happened, because as far as Cas was concerned, “Meg” dealt with six-year-olds and not adults in the corporate world. Then again, they were basically the same thing: people yelling when they didn’t get their way.

Dean thought for a while, and then decided to tell as much as he could – just though metaphors. _  
_

_A kid spent three hours building the most epic Lego castle, and then this bigger kid comes right out of nowhere and knocks the tower down. They got into a fight, and when their parents found out, they blamed me for not protecting the castle in the first place, and then yelled at me for not predicting that the bigger kid would knock it down. In front of all the other kids and their parents._

_That sucks. :( Anything I can do to help?_

Dean swallowed. There were lots of things Dean could think of, but at the moment, they all involved Dean, Cas and simply lounging on the couch and watching some stupid telenovela with the occasional snarky commentary. There was nothing Cas could do for “Meg”, and honestly, Dean didn’t want to talk to Cas as “Meg”. He wanted to talk to Cas as himself, but that didn’t seem like a good idea.

 _Not really. Sorry, just needed to vent_ , Dean finally wrote, swallowing whatever stupid ideas he had about telling Cas the truth, or worse. He could do this, be someone else for a while and not worry about his own life.

 _How was your day?_ he wrote instead, and managed to coax Cas into talking about the current novel he was discussing with his class. They exchanged a few messages about _Fahrenheit 451_ , but even if he normally would’ve been up for it, Dean couldn’t muster up enthusiasm for the conversation. There was a pause after that, and Dean figured that Cas had gotten bored of him, before his phone chimed.

_Sorry. Needed to get out of my suit._

_Ooh, tell me more. Never could resist a man in a suit._ It was half-hearted and Dean knew it, but Cas wouldn’t know the difference.

_You would become bored of my wardrobe in a week. I practically live in suits.  
_

_Okay, Barney._

_I’ve no idea what you’re referencing._

Dean was debating about whether or not to explain that to Cas, when suddenly his personal cell rang. Surprised, he stood up and went to retrieve it from his bag, which was still lying on the hallway floor where he’d shucked it after he’d stumbled inside. Dean steeled himself, since it was probably his mother calling that her flight had landed, but to his astonishment, it was Cas. Distraught, Dean glanced at his work cell on his other hand, where the conversation with Cas was still open, and then back to his personal cell. Dean hesitated, but only for a heartbeat, and then answered the call.

“Hi, Cas. What’s up?”

“I’m two minutes away. Can I come over?”

“Uh, sure?” Dean said. He hadn’t expected that, and again, confused, he glanced at his work phone, where Cas’s text telling “Meg” that he was getting out of his suit was still visible. What on earth…? Cas coming over wasn’t out of the ordinary, of course, but Cas’s sudden appearance still threw Dean off course. He’d been prepared to pretend to be “Meg” for the rest of the evening, and by some miracle, Cas had been sent to him.

“See you soon,” Cas only said, and hung up. Dean blinked, but then sprang into action. He picked up his bag and threw it in the bedroom, got out of his suit jacket and shirt and changed into a t-shirt and jeans. He didn’t have energy for anything else, nor time, because as soon as he got the t-shirt pulled over his head, the doorbell rang.

Cas had indeed changed his clothes at some point, because he was wearing jeans and a white shirt instead of the usual suit. Dean raised his eyebrows at this choice, but didn’t dare to ask.

“Hi,” Dean said.

“Hello,” Cas said. “How was your day?”

“Don’t ask,” Dean muttered. “Come on in.”

Cas followed him to the kitchen, because that was apparently where everyone gravitated in Dean’s apartment, and glanced at the cold stove.

“You haven’t cooked yet?” Cas asked, the surprise obvious in his voice.

“What is this, free food for all who show up?” Dean snapped. He instantly regretted it, but didn’t say so.

Castiel eyed him. “Are you okay?”

Dean didn’t know what to tell him. Basically, yes, but he was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

“Just tired,” Dean said.

“We can just order pizza,” Cas suggested.

“That… actually sounds great.”

“Your usual?” Cas asked, and when Dean nodded, Cas went ahead and took his phone to place the order. Dean turned away, somewhat embarrassed, because as silly as it was, he couldn’t bear to look at Cas’s phone, of all things.

Cas thankfully put his phone away after placing the order and didn’t once look at it. Dean felt oddly grateful at that. They sat in the kitchen and talked about whatever for a while – Dean didn’t much pay attention, but he avoided mentioning his job, and Cas filled the silence enough with his chatter.

When the pizza arrived, it was Cas who went to answer the door and paid for them, despite Dean’s half-hearted protests. Cas went as far as to cut the slices and put them on plates, when Dean couldn’t find it in himself to move from his spot. He was content to watch Cas move around in his kitchen just like Cas was at home; Dean hadn’t even realized how well Cas had memorized the cupboards.

“Come on,” Cas said. “We can watch TV while we eat, right?”

“A man after my own heart,” Dean said as finally stood up. He meant it more than he wanted to.

Cas snorted at that, but didn’t tease Dean back. Cas led them to the couch, and when he switched the TV on and chose the channel, Dean didn’t complain. He settled back to eat pizza and watch Cas from the corner of his eye more than what was happening on the screen.

“How’re you feeling?” Cas asked some time after the first show – Dean hadn’t a clue what it had been about – had ended.

“Mmmh,” Dean muttered. He couldn’t give a more concise answer, but Cas took it as it was.

“Okay,” he simply said, and they continued to watch TV in silence.

Another show came and went, and Dean started to feel better, more at ease in his skin. He’d abandoned the pizza already, and was just enjoying the tired feeling of not quite falling asleep.

“Dean,” Cas said then, but didn’t continue the sentence. Dean still understood it for the question that it was.

“Can we just stay here?” Dean mumbled.

Cas settled against the backrest again, accidentally making Dean burrow closer to him. Dean didn’t move away.

“Of course, Dean.”

They stayed on the couch long after the pizza had gone cold, sitting side by side, watching whatever sitcoms Thursday night had to offer. They didn’t speak much, and it was still everything Dean had wanted.

 

* * *

 

On Friday, Cas texted Dean that he couldn’t make it to Roadhouse that night. Dean was slightly confused when he received the message, before realizing that Cas was really texting _Dean_ this time, not “Meg”. He felt uncomfortable as he read Cas’s message, because Cas was much snippier and shorter in his messages to Dean than he was when he texted “Meg”, but Dean quickly shrugged it off. Cas hadn’t texted “Meg” once while he’d stayed at Dean’s yesterday, and that had to count as something.

_Won’t make it to Roadhouse tonight. I’ll be out of town till Sunday._

_Ok, have a fun trip_ , Dean answered. He knew he shouldn’t, but he felt hollow.

Almost immediately, Cas also texted “Meg”, and the contrast between the messages was striking. Dean swallowed his bitterness.

_I’ll be awol most of the weekend. Family emergency._

_I hope it’s nothing serious! :(_

_Just need to break up a fight. The argument about Anna &Ruby’s wedding still continues._

_Good luck with that_ , Dean answered. He pitied Cas – his sisters were nice enough, but when a fight broke out, it was a hell house. He’d only witnessed a blow-out like that once, and that had been enough. He couldn’t imagine how awful the situation was when Cas’s mother got mixed into it as well.

When Dean arrived to the Roadhouse, he instinctively looked around, before remembering that Cas wouldn’t be there. Charlie was by the counter, talking with Jo again, and from experience, Dean knew that Sam and Sarah would be the last ones to arrive. Dean walked to the counter and coughed, and even then, it took a few seconds for Charlie and Jo to stop their silent conversation.

“Dean! Hi!” Jo flashed a happy grin. “What’ll it be tonight?”

“Just give me what’s on tap,” Dean said. “So, how’s it going with you two lovebirds?”

“That’s classified,” Charlie said, but her smile told a different story. “You’re here early.”

“So are you,” Dean pointed out. “Uh, and Cas is not coming. Said something about family emergency.”

“Oh,” Charlie said. “Huh. He just told me he’d be out of town this weekend.”

Dean shrugged, trying to hide his embarrassment. How had he gotten that mixed up? Cas had told “Meg” that, not to Dean. To Dean, Cas had only said that he couldn’t be there.

“I’m gonna go sit,” Dean said, taking his beer and escaping before Charlie figured out his inner turmoil. She was usually very good at that, but currently, she was distracted by flirting with her… girlfriend? Date? Future wife? Whatever Jo was to Charlie at this stage, they seemed to be completely absorbed in their own little world.

Dean drank his beer in peace for a while, but when it started to look like Charlie and Jo couldn’t stop their talk and there was no sign of Sam and Sarah, Dean took out his work phone to check for messages. To his surprise, Cas had sent him a message not five minutes ago: _bored. Can you distract me?_

 _Though you’d be on your way to family fun time_ , Dean answered.

_Taking a train. I have time. Are you busy?_

_nah, not doing anything special. What’d you have in mind?_

_How do you feel about butt plugs?_

Dean was lucky he wasn’t drinking that particular moment, because otherwise, he’d definitely have spurted his drink out. Christ, Cas’s nonchalance about the whole thing made the image in his head even hotter.

_jfc cas i’m in a public place_

_So?_

_Do you know what kind of effect you have on me?_

_Tell me._

Dean blushed. _I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve never considered using one, but… I would for you._

“Who are you texting?”

Dean jerked violently. Charlie had slid to the booth next to him, and was looking curiously at his cell.

“None of your business, Bradbury,” Dean snapped, and hid his phone under his hands. Childish, maybe, but it should’ve kept Charlie from poking her nose into things that weren’t her business.

Charlie, as usual, ignored that and poked her nose into things that weren’t her business. “Someone from work?”

“No,” Dean snapped.

“That’s your work phone,” Charlie said.

Dean couldn’t come up with a retort to that, so Charlie continued with a grin, “You having an office romance, Winchester?”

“I—” Dean didn’t know what to say.

It turned out he didn’t have to, because when the next message pinged, Charlie and Dean both looked at the screen at the same time. Before Dean could swipe the message away, Charlie had already read it.

Her eyes widened. “‘I’d get you a blue one. You’d look good with that, in your blue panties. I’d make you wear it in your work, so that you’d never stop thinking of me. Every time you’d shift, you’d think of how it could be my… cock… inst—’ Dean, holy hell, why is _Cas_ texting y—? Oh my god, you two finally did the diddly-do!”

“CHARLIE!” Dean bellowed. The couple from the table next to their booth turned to look at them, bewildered. Embarrassed by his outburst, Dean ducked his head.

“Dean?” Charlie asked.

“It’s not what you think it is!” Dean whispered.

“How can this not be what I think it is?” Charlie whispered back. There was a slight blush covering her cheeks. “I’ve read classier lesbian erotica than this!”

“It’s—it’s just not, okay!”

“Then explain it to me,” Charlie demanded.

“I’m…” Dean swallowed. “I’m just teaching Cas a lesson. He thinks that he’s texting Meg.”

“Meg?” Charlie repeated. “That Meg that Cas hit on a few weeks ago? That hot brunette?”

“Yes, that hot brunette.”

“Oh, no, Dean, you didn’t. Why the hell are you pretending to be Meg and, and, _sexting_ Cas?”

“I’m not!” Dean said.

“You totally are.”

“I’m… I’m just giving him a taste of his own medicine!”

“You’ve lost me.” Charlie shook her head.

“He—I—”

“Dean,” Charlie said. She placed her hands on Dean’s shoulders, and somehow, the situation had turned into Charlie calming Dean down. “Start from the beginning and explain this to me.”

Dean didn’t know how he could’ve explained it all to Charlie, so the story didn’t make much sense at first. Finally, after a few false starts, he managed to explain how Cas had repeatedly broken the three days rule, much to Dean’s frustration, and thus, Dean’s ingenious plan been born. Dean skirted around a few details at first, but then it became apparent that after her initial shock, Charlie wasn’t skirmish and wasn’t about to let Dean leave anything out of the story. Dean was forced to recount how their initial flirting had changed into an unplanned friends-with-phone-sex-benefits situation.

The more he talked, the less even Dean understood what he was saying. At some point, Charlie simply raised her hand and softly said, “Stop.”

They were silent for a moment.

“You know that you’re totally in a relationship with Cas, right?”

“Am not,” Dean said. “Haven’t you been listening to a single thing I said? I’m teaching him a lesson!”

“By pretending to be a girl he regularly has phone sex with,” Charlie said.

“Exactly!”

“And by talking about his day with him, and live-blogging movies with him, and staying up until three a.m. to talk about nothing.”

“Well, it’s not… when you put it like that…”

“And you don’t see anything wrong with this scenario?”

“…no?”

“Dude,” Charlie sighed, “you’re _totally_ in a relationship with him. You’re so in a relationship with him that you’re one day away from moving together and two from marrying him.”

“I’m—”

Dean silenced, because there was nothing he could say. Charlie was right. Dean wasn’t an idiot, all right. He knew what was happening here – he just wasn’t able to bring himself to confess it out loud. So maybe he’d been lying to himself. So maybe he had a tiny crush on his best friend. So maybe he’d been temporarily indulging himself. And maybe that crush wasn’t so tiny, and maybe it wasn’t temporary. Dean just hadn’t been able to come into terms with the fact that he’s been head over heel for his best friend for a decade, because it hurt too much to even think about it.

Castiel has never given any indication that he might be into men, and after second year of college, Dean had stopped trying to bring it up. At college, it had been easier, somewhat – people experimented in college, right? People did all kinds of stupid stuff in college, like had crushes on their best male friends. But Castiel had never given Dean any reason to think that he was anything but straight, and Dean had always valued Cas’s friendship over anything. If it meant looking from aside when Castiel tried to talk to women, or helping him getting a _female_ date, or listening to his love life troubles, Dean would still take it, because he couldn’t and shouldn’t ask for more.

Being “Meg”, being allowed to talk to Cas like he really wanted, letting go… If that was all Dean was ever going to get, he’d take it. He’d take it and he _would_ be content with it, because he couldn’t ask for more. He had already taken too much from Cas – he couldn’t and shouldn’t ask for more, especially when he knew that Cas would never give him that.

Fuck, but Dean hated himself. He had been selfishly using Cas – _was_ using Cas – even though Cas would be repulsed if he knew the truth. But Dean was pathetic and lonely, and if this was the extent of Cas he was ever going to have… he had to take it.

Charlie eyed him carefully, attempting to assess what was going inside Dean’s head, and Dean couldn’t handle that look of pity. He looked away.

“It’s nothing,” Dean finally muttered. “It’s just a joke.”

“Just a joke, huh,” Charlie said. “Fine. Prove it,” she sweetly added. “Stop pretending. Stop being ‘Meg’, stop texting him, and stop having phone sex with him. Go back to just being _Dean the friend_ with him.”

“Easy,” Dean scoffed. It wasn’t, and he was lying to himself, but he knew that he’d need to stop this whole charade – it wasn’t fair to Cas.

Cas would be disappointed that “Meg” disappeared, though. Maybe he should tell him some lie, make “Meg” leave the country or something, and then just never text Cas again?

“How do I break this gently to Cas?” Dean muttered.

Charlie looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “By telling him the truth? Dean, what the hell!”

“I can’t tell him!” Dean hissed. “This—I—no, Charlie. I’m not gonna do that. I’m just going to… stop texting.”

Charlie sighed. “Whatever you say, Dean.”


	5. Chapter 5

Despite promising Charlie to stop, when Dean got home that evening and found that he’d gotten a message from Cas, he found it impossible to resist. Dean read the text, smiling a bit, since Cas had taken his abrupt silence as a sign that he’d done something wrong. Considerate, silly, lovable Cas.

_I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable._

_Def not. Was just with friends & enjoying the mental image_, Dean wrote. He’d already sent the message before he remembered that he was supposed to stop texting as “Meg” altogether, and cursed himself, Cas, Charlie and the whole world. (In that order.)

_I’m glad._

Dean swallowed as he looked at the message. Charlie was right; he couldn’t keep doing this, no matter how much he wanted to, because it wasn’t fair to Cas. Even if he ended up losing Cas, Cas deserved the truth. He didn’t need a shitty friend like Dean, anyway.

It took him a minute or two, but Dean managed to type and send, _Hey, there’s something I need to tell you._

Cas must’ve been holding his phone in his hand, because the answer was so immediate that Dean jumped.

_Yes?_

Dean swallowed. How on earth was he going to tell the truth to Cas without sounding like a huge jerk, which he was? How could he make Cas see his point of view, as vile as it was?

Dean couldn’t do it. He couldn’t break Cas, not like that, not without Cas understanding—

His fingers were faster than his brain, and had already typed out and sent, _I really like you_ when Dean clued in. Dean groaned, frustrated at himself and the whole world. That wasn’t what he’d been trying to say, even if it was what he _wanted_ to say.

His phone chimed with a new message.

_I really like you too._

Dean’s heart leapt to his throat, and he smiled widely at his phone, before remembering the situation.

Oh no. Oh god no. This was so much harder than what he’d told Charlie it would be. (Why was she always right, goddamnit?)

_So you weren’t averse to the butt plug idea from earlier?_

Dean gave up. Sighing, he wrote, _not what I was going for, but continue._

_?_

_I’m on my bed, naked. Tell me what to do_

_With pleasure._

 

* * *

 

When Dean showed up at Charlie’s place on Saturday morning, Charlie took one look at Dean’s face and frowned. They didn’t have a LARP/general nerding around planned for today, but she could well guess why Dean was there. She led him to the bedroom – the mattress was down, signaling that it currently wasn’t a living room. Dean had both feared and hoped that Jo would be there to act as a barrier, but she wasn’t, and so Dean immediately knew that he was busted and that he couldn’t escape the conversation.

“You did it again,” Charlie said. She sat him down on the mattress, and sat down next to him.

“I did it again,” Dean confirmed, and buried his head in his hands. “I swear I was about to tell him my real identity. I even got as far as, ‘hey, there’s something I need to tell you,’ and then it… just…” Dean sighed. “It got derailed.”

“Dean.”

“It’s not my fault! Why does he have to be so good at phone sex?”

“Ew,” Charlie said. “Seriously, I don’t want to know. You’re both like brothers to me, and besides, you know man-on-man isn’t my cup of tea.”

“It’s not exactly—Meg’s not—it’s more like—” Dean paused. He couldn’t explain to Charlie – nor did she want to hear it – that after the first time, Dean had never had trouble placing himself in the situations Cas described. In fact, everything Cas sent him fit his own fantasies so well that it wasn’t necessary to think of Castiel doing those things to a woman; Dean being a man didn’t dampen the experience one bit. Castiel was weirdly good at making him feel like that.

“Right, pretending to be a girl, I forgot,” Charlie said, and Dean kept quiet, because he didn’t know how to correct Charlie’s mistake.

“Why do I keep trying to have sex with Cas?” Dean lamented.

“I don’t know,” Charlie said, colder than Dean would’ve liked. “Maybe you should look into that.”

Dean buried his head in his hands again, and a long moment passed between them. The momentary coldness vanished from Charlie’s features, and she gently nudged Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean,” she said, “there’s no shame in being attracted to Cas.”

“I’m not,” Dean mumbled.

“Then why do you keep texting him?”

“I—” Dean silenced.

“Dean, you’re addicted to being ‘Meg’. You literally can’t stay away from him, and to my understanding, you like it. Why is that?”

There was no simple answer Dean could give to Charlie. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew perfectly well at this point that he was attracted to Cas, that he wanted to be with Cas, that he wanted a relationship with Cas, complete with hearts and roses. He wanted to be there in person for all the dirty stuff Cas came up in texts, and he wanted to be present for all the mushy stuff as well, like commenting on movies and discussing fucking bee facts, if that was what Castiel wanted.

But this whole thing had gotten so out of hand that Dean wasn’t sure which way was up anymore. He wanted to come clean, but he _couldn’t_ , because that was a surefire way of losing Cas. He also _didn’t_ want to come clean, because that way, he could’ve kept Cas. But at this stage, pretending to be something or someone he wasn’t was messing with his head so much that he’d crack sooner or later.

“Dean,” Charlie said, interrupting his thoughts, “this isn’t about Cas, specifically, isn’t it.”

Dean couldn’t even shake his head, but Charlie still understood.

“This is about something bigger, right? About your, uh, self-image?”

Dean hadn’t expected Charlie to say that, but it did kind of make sense.

“Maybe.” He sighed. “Yeah. I just…” He took a breath. “I’m so bad at this,” he started.

“Take your time.”

Dean didn’t know where to even begin. He thought for a while, and then finally said, “I never told you why I broke up with Lisa, right?”

“You said you weren’t compatible.”

“Well…” Dean swallowed. “That’s true, too, but… She kind of hit a sore spot. She said that maybe I shouldn’t date women if I really wanted a… boyfriend. It’s not like she’s the only one. One of my exes found, um, magazines… and told me that I should just decide to be gay and not trick women into being my beards.”

Charlie blinked. “What the hell.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, relieved that Charlie understood. “I mean, it’s not like my friends or family has ever been outright against… gay people or… but it’s… just low-key things. ‘As long as they don’t hit on me’, or ‘I don’t want to see that’ or ‘those people are just confused’. Stuff like that slips out, and I just figured—it wasn’t _okay_ , growing up. And I just thought, this is a fluke, it’ll go away, I was mistaken, I mean, I’m attracted to women, okay? But then sometimes, there are things that I just can’t explain away, and the older I get, the harder it gets to avoid. And the older I get, the harder it gets to… come out,” Dean finally forced himself to say.

“I’ve been avoiding this for so long. I’ve never talked to anyone about it, I’ve never done anything about it, so if I just suddenly… told everyone… it would be weird. It never seemed like an issue, because I could just go out with women and ignore it, but…”

He looked away, embarrassed.

“I don’t even know what I’m saying,” Dean muttered.

“I do,” Charlie said. “Dean, I know what you’re talking about. I’ve been there. I know how that feels like. But you can’t let others dictate how you live your life, or control your happiness.” She took his hands, and the touch felt comforting. “You’ve had some bad experiences in the past, and that sucks. But you can’t linger on those. It’s your choice who you tell and who you don’t tell, but I hate seeing you so uncomfortable with yourself.”

Dean clasped Charlie’s hands, grateful. They shared a moment of silence, and Dean felt like something heavy had been lifted from his shoulders. It wasn’t a closure, it was only a start, but it felt good to finally get the words out there.

“I think I like Cas,” Dean finally said.

“I’ve noticed,” Charlie noted, with a little smile.

“I mean, not just… because of this thing.”

“I know.” Charlie petted his hand. “I really think you should talk to him.”

“He’ll hate me if I tell the truth,” Dean muttered. “Who the fuck even does something like this?”

“Desperate people?”

“Mmh.”

“Maybe you should try telling him,” Charlie said. “I have a feeling that he might not reject you.”

Dean laughed bitterly at that.

 

* * *

 

Dean bit lip as he stared at his phone. The talk with Charlie had done its job, and Dean was resolved to see this to the end, but actually doing it was a completely different thing. He’d been sitting on his bed for a long while now, just staring at his phone.

With a heavy heart, Dean forced himself to type, _there’s something I wanna talk to you about_

_what’s up?_

Dean stared at his phone for a long, long time. He knew he’d have to do this, sooner or later, but he had no idea how to break the truth to Cas. Besides, he wanted to push back the inevitable moment when resentment would fill Cas’s eyes, and he declared that he never wanted to talk to Dean again. Dean went over everything he should say in his head, drafting and deleting the message for fifteen times, until he gave up.

He couldn’t do it.

_Have you considered me + ball gag?_

_While that’s a nice image, it’s not my thing. I like to hear my partners._

_Oh_

_Would you like one?_

_Not really. You shutting me up with your cock, tho, that works_

_Wow_

_How the tables have turned, huh?_

_You should be punished for your insolence_

_Do it_ , Dean wrote, possibly for more reasons than just the obvious one. He unzipped his jeans and drew out his cock, already anticipating what Cas had to say next.

_I’d strip you to bare and put you on your knees on the floor. Then, I’d tie your hands together behind your back. Would you like that?_

_Yes_ , Dean answered without hesitation.

_Slowly, I’d feed my cock to you, inch by inch, and then pull out, make you work on the head. I’d make you swallow me down, until you couldn’t taste anything else but me. I’d keep my cock there, just letting you swallow around it, and pull out just before you couldn’t take it anymore._

Dean couldn’t help but rut against his hand; the pressure of his palm against his cock was too little, too tame, and Dean wished Cas had been there to keep him still, to give him what he needed. It didn’t feel that great, but Dean still grasped his cock, trying to jack off quickly.

_I’d pull you up, push you on the bed on your stomach. I’d lick your rim, work on you on my tongue, until you were wet and slippery. I’d keep teasing you, keep you on edge, until you were begging for me to let you come. Only then would I push my fingers inside of you, press on you until you were a beautiful, trembling mess._

_Come for me, Dean._

Several things happened all at once: Dean gasped, both from fear and the idea that Cas was telling him that, and came all over his chest. But his afterglow disappeared as soon as he stopped spurting come, because the reality of the situation took over.

Cas knew everything.

Cas knew it was him.

Cas _knew_.

Cas knew, and Dean had never been more afraid in his life.

 

* * *

 

Dean finally sent the message he should’ve sent three weeks ago. His hands shook when he typed it, but he gathered his courage and when he pressed “send”, his hands were steady.

_Hey, can we meet at Roadhouse? Can we talk?_

_See you in 30 min_

Dean’s heart clenched. He knew he didn’t have any right to expect otherwise, but Cas’s cold message felt like a spear was hammered into his chest. Cas was obviously disgusted with him, and couldn’t wait to get this over with.

Then again, Cas had been just as aggressive participant, and had even used Dean’s real name during the last time. Dean couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of hope that maybe Cas wasn’t that angry with him. Maybe Cas wasn’t that disgusted with finding out it was Dean with whom he was talking. Maybe he wouldn’t cut Dean out of his life, and maybe he’d let Dean stay and pine for Cas, like the goddamn idiot he was. Maybe Cas wouldn’t mind a friend who had gotten way in over his head and strayed from the original plan so much that he couldn’t even remember what his reasoning for this convoluted plan had been. Maybe Cas wouldn’t mind a friend who was a little bit in love with him.

Dean forcibly swallowed his sadness and anxiety, and hopped off the bed. He didn’t have time to shower, but he wiped himself as best as he could and changed his clothes. Putting on cologne seemed like a wasted effort, because it wasn’t like Cas cared, but it would mask the smell of sex that still clung to him.

Dean drove slowly to the Roadhouse, attempting to put off the conversation for as long as he could, even if it was a futile attempt. Castiel was already sitting at the booth when Dean stepped inside, and Dean stopped for a moment to observe Castiel’s body language – he appeared stiff, but that was to be expected, and hadn’t ordered anything to drink, which was a bad sign. It meant that Cas was not going to take any of Dean’s attempts to deflect and wanted to dive right into the discussion.

Dean squared his shoulders as he walked to the booth and sat down. Castiel’s eyes danced on his face, and embarrassed, Dean looked away.

“Hey,” Dean said.

“Hi,” Cas answered.

“So,” Dean said.

“So,” Cas said. His lips were curling into a tiny smile that would’ve been impossible to see if he hadn’t known Cas for fifteen years, but Dean saw it. He figured that Cas wasn’t, at the very least, traumatized or very angry. He was more… amused, for some twisted reason. Maybe he was laughing at Dean, how pathetic Dean had been, and how easily the joke had turned on him.

The silence stretched between them, and they stole little glances at each other, waiting for one of them to crack. Castiel coughed, and then suddenly, Dean couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I’m so sorry,” Dean rushed out. “I’m sorry that I tricked you, and I’m sorry that I kept this going for as long as it did. I—I don’t know why—I just—I couldn’t let you know otherwise… I’m so sorry, Cas.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, cutting off Dean’s babbling. “I’ve known from the start.”

“From… from the start?”

“And even if I hadn’t,” Cas continued, “Charlie told me.”

“She did?” Dean didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved – Charlie had betrayed his trust, but on the other hand, she’d done the right thing and told Cas the truth, which Dean hadn’t done.

Castiel nodded. “She was concerned that I was taking ‘Meg’ more seriously than I did.”

Dean’s throat felt dry. So, there it was. “Meg” hadn’t meant a thing for Cas. This all had just been a giant joke for Cas, like it had originally been to Dean. Cas had realized the truth and had used it to prank Dean right back, pushing boundaries just for shits and giggles, and Dean, like the idiot, had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker, because he’d desperately _wished_ for it to be true. Because he’d desperately wished that Cas would care, that someone would care, and wouldn’t judge him for wanting to do all the things they’d talked about. And, most importantly, he’d wished it to be true, because he had fallen for Cas, like the idiot he was. He’d fallen for Cas, and it all had been a huge joke for Cas.

Dean swallowed the tears that threatened to burst out, and asked, “Um. Can… can I ask when you figured out that you weren’t talking to… Meg?”

“From the third message or so,” Cas said, offhandedly.

“Third message?” Dean felt like his heart had stopped for a second. “But I hadn’t—I mean, Meg hadn’t—screw it, I hadn’t sent you more than, ‘hey sexy’ by then!”

“Meg wouldn’t text like that,” Cas said.

“What?” Dean asked. “How the hell would you know?”

“Meg is a childhood friend,” Castiel explained. “We were in the same elementary school and middle school, but we went to different high schools, and drifted apart. I didn’t recognize her at first, because she’d grown out her hair and went from blonde to brunette.”

“So, uh.” Dean blinked. “You… really knew from the start.”

“Yes.”

“Why… why would you—”

“I never intended to go out on a date with her,” Cas said. “She asked me to call that evening, because she wanted to catch up. She was happy to see me again. And vice versa.”

“But… I thought—”

“And she told me that she’s engaged to a woman named Josie,” Castiel said. “I doubt she would’ve texted me ‘hey sexy’, much less anything else you said.”

Dean groaned. “Oh, fuck.”

He really hadn’t been as smooth as he’d thought. Cas had led him on, right from the start.

Dean glanced elsewhere. “I’m sorry I ruined things between you and Meg.”

“You didn’t.”

“What?” Dean’s head snapped up.

“When I realized I wasn’t talking with Meg, I looked her up in Facebook and sent a friend request. We’ve been out for coffee twice. And I’ve met her fiancée Josie. They’re very… interesting to watch together.”

“Fucking hell,” Dean muttered. “I never should’ve tried anything like this. I’m… Cas, I’m so sorry. I just… I got so caught up in trying to prove you wrong that I never stopped to think.”

“No, you didn’t,” Cas said, seriously. They eyed each other for while. “Did you mean anything you sent me?”

Dean swallowed. He didn’t want to hide anything from Cas anymore: even if this all went up in flames and Cas never wanted to see him again, he wanted to come clean. Cas deserved to know the truth, even if it ended up hurting Dean.

“Everything,” Dean quietly said. “I meant every word, Cas. I know this is awkward for you to hear, and I know it was just a joke for you, but I—”

“Dean,” Cas cut him off, “it was never a joke for me.”

Dean couldn’t say anything to that. His heart started to race, hope springing in his mind.

“I didn’t know what I was doing in the start, so I just… went with what I wanted to say. I figured that it’d freak you out, make you confess, but then…” Castiel looked straight into his eyes. “You liked it.”

“Yes.”

“So I continued, as long as I could. I admit that the first time, I was just trying to wind you up. But after that… That was not a joke. It seemed like the only time I could tell you what I really wanted,” Castiel said, his voice getting smaller the longer he spoke.

They stared at each other for a long while again, trying to read the mood correctly. Dean still wasn’t completely sure what was happening, but he was done running away.

“I had a crush on a guy named Aaron in high school,” Dean blurted out. “And after that, on my best friend of that time, Benny. And until recently, on Donny from accounting.”

“Dean.”

“Just so you know,” Dean said. “So you know that this isn’t—I’m not—you’re not some experiment, Cas. I’ve… I’ve been just scared to…”

Castiel leant over the table and gently touched his cheek. Dean leant into the touch like it was his lifeline.

“I know, Dean. It’s not like I ever told you, either.”

Dean timidly met Cas’s gaze. “So you, uh. Have you ever even liked the women I tried to hook you up with?”

“Not really.” Cas seemed uncomfortable, for the first time during their discussion. “I’m… not sexually attracted to anyone, usually. Male or female.”

“Oh.”

“Those weren’t bad experiences, Dean. I’ve learned a lot from them. For example,” Cas touched his cheek again, almost reverently, “I’ve realized that I need to know the person very well, before I’m attracted to them.”

“So—you—” Dean swallowed. “Cas, I just… really like you.”

“I just really like you too.” Castiel smiled.

They watched each other, carefully, as if waiting for the other to bolt. Dean couldn’t believe this turn of events – he was still waiting for the punch line, for Cas to turn around and say that this was revenge for everything Dean had put him through. But that didn’t happen; when they looked at each other, all Dean could see in Castiel’s eyes was tenderness and shy happiness.

“Can I kiss you?” Castiel asked, and that shy question, contrasted with everything Castiel had ever texted him, made Dean’s heart ache with affection.

“Yes,” Dean breathed, already leaning forward. Cas met him halfway, and though it was a bit awkward with the table between them, Dean didn’t think he’d ever gotten a tenderer kiss. It was completely innocent, just a gentle slide of Castiel’s dry lips against Dean’s wetter ones, and it sent goose bumps through Dean’s body. Castiel cradled his head like he was something precious, and Dean clung to Cas’s arms, trying not to drown amidst all that he was feeling.

When they separated, they both took a breath, and then dived back for another kiss. Dean felt Castiel smile against his lips, which made Dean smile, too, and they broke apart, laughing a little. For a moment, they watched each other, both grinning.

“I’ve been trying to get over you for years,” Cas confessed. “It didn’t… seem wise to tell you, when you never showed any interest.”

“Years?” Dean was shocked – he’d never realized that Cas might like him. Then again, Dean hadn’t given Cas any inclination that he might be anything else than straight, either, because it had been a huge issue weighting on his mind and something he hadn’t been able to resolve. Even if he knew queer people, like Charlie – or Jo, or Anna, or Ruby, and now Cas – it was still different to accept others from accepting yourself. Besides, Dean fully admitted that he’d spent so much time sulking about his own internal prejudices and hang-ups that he’d never stopped to think that Cas might be going through something similar. (And, once again, Dean realized that his gaydar sucked. Horribly. He’d failed to notice that a surprisingly large amount of people in his vicinity were queer.)

“You didn’t notice me pining after your ass ever since college?”

“College?” Castiel asked, just as shocked as Dean had been. “How—Dean, that’s not—” He sighed. “I suppose what you’ve always told me still rings true. I’m the worst at reading social clues.”

“The worst,” Dean confirmed. “You’re very good at texting, though.”

“I only said what I meant.”

“Really?” Dean leant closer to whisper, “What about the part where you spank me?”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “You can be insufferable sometimes.”

“Only to wind you up.” Dean winked. “What about the part where you fuck my face?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the part where you rim me until I come just on your tongue?”

Castiel gulped, and to Dean’s amusement, he looked a little pink. His eyes were dilated, and his breath stuttered, before he collected himself. Dean leant back in chair, carefully watching Cas.

“We should probably stop talking about this.”

“Yeah.”

“This is getting uncomfortable.”

“Right.”

“Or,” Dean said, “we could get out of here and have sex instead of just talk about it.”

Castiel paused. “Yes, that’s better.”

 

* * *

 

The drive from Roadhouse to Dean’s place – it was closer – took twenty minutes, and those were the longest minutes of Dean’s life. Cas kept tapping a fast rhythm on the dashboard and his feet never stopped moving, and if Dean hadn’t had to concentrate on driving, he would’ve done the same. Dean’s mouth was dry, and he had a hard time looking at the road and not Cas. They didn’t speak, and there was no music on, which only electrified the situation further. When they finally reached Dean’s apartment complex, Dean parked at the first place he could find, possibly violating a few traffic laws as he did so, and Cas jumped out of the car before Dean had killed the ignition. The ride in the elevator up to the fifth floor felt like torture, and Dean didn’t think he’d ever wanted to do something as much as he wanted to touch Cas that moment. Somehow, they kept their hands to themselves, even if they stood so close to each other that a minimal movement would’ve brought them together.

Dean fumbled with his keys, and with Castiel hovering right behind him, he nervously dropped and picked them up before he could open the door. They walked into Dean’s apartment, and as soon as the door closed behind them, Cas grabbed Dean by the shoulders and pulled him into a kiss. Dean moaned into his mouth, and they tumbled backwards, with Dean’s back hitting the front door. Cas pressed insistently against him and kissed Dean fiercely, putting all the frustration and pent-up feelings into it, and Dean answered with the same fire. Castiel’s hands were cradling his skull just as carefully as before, making it a striking contrast to the harsh way his lips were claiming Dean’s. Dean had never felt so completely surrounded and owned, and the fact that it was _Cas_ kissing him like that only made it a thousand times better.

They separated with a gasp, and for a second, stared at each other. Castiel’s eyes were dilated, the blue giving way to the ring of black, and Dean licked his lips when he saw that.

“So.” Dean swallowed. “Bedroom?”

“Bedroom,” Castiel confirmed.

Though the walk from the door to Dean’s bedroom was a short one, they managed to make it long by stopping to remove jackets and, with accompanying laughter, shoes and socks. Castiel tripped on his feet and fell against Dean when he tried to toe off his shoes, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh at that, which only worsened when Castiel grabbed Dean’s thigh and helped him remove his socks. They fell against the bedroom wall, both laughing and high on each other.

“This is awful,” Dean giggled. “Or amazing. I can’t decide.”

“It’s both.”

“Both is good,” Dean grinned, and pulled Castiel into a kiss by yanking from Cas’s tie – blue-and-white-striped, today. Castiel smiled into the kiss, and then proceeded to put his everything into it. Dean let out a soft gasp as Castiel nipped at his lower lip, and then moved downwards, biting softly at his jaw and neck. Dean threw his head back into the wall and moaned when Castiel bit into his collarbone.

“Christ, Cas,” Dean said. “For a virgin, you’re very assertive.”

“I’ve watched porn, Dean. And,” Castiel pressed his lips behind Dean’s ear, making Dean shudder, “I’ve had a long, _long_ time to think about this.”

“Jesus,” Dean groaned, and just like that, the earlier amusement coating the air turned into lust. “You really meant what you said in your texts, huh. You control freak.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Cas said, “but it seems to me that you enjoy being told what to do in bed. I enjoy being obeyed.”

“Shit,” Dean groaned. “Yes, _yes_ , Cas.”

“So I don’t see why we should stop doing that. We’re very compatible that way.”

“Hell no. I’m not saying we should stop.” Dean looked at Cas; his hair was wrecked, his tie was loosened and shirt halfway unbuttoned, and they hadn’t even gotten started yet. “How the hell did you even know that? Please don’t tell me you found my porn collection.”

“I guessed,” Cas said.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Fine, so I didn’t,” Cas agreed. “I told you, at first I was just trying to mess with you, Dean. I imagined that sending you sexually aggressive messages would make you uncomfortable.” He leant close again, kissing softly behind Dean’s ear. “And when that didn’t work, I sent even more aggressive messages.”

“Well, that backfired spectacularly.” Dean kissed Castiel’s cheek, ear, hair, everything he could reach.

“Are you complaining?” Castiel hummed against his skin.

“Absolutely not,” Dean groaned. “Please.”

“Please what, Dean?”

“ _Please_ ,” Dean whined. He didn’t know if he could say it, but Cas seemed determined to not let Dean get off easy. In both meanings of the saying.

“Please what, Dean?” Castiel repeated, with that controlling tone again, and Dean shivered.

“Please… please tell me what to do,” Dean finally said, flushing bright red. Castiel smiled against his skin, gave his ear a little kiss and took a step back.

“Strip,” he said, and Dean jumped into action. He had already lost his socks and shoes, and his overall shirt had been dropped with the jacket in the hallway, so he made a show of removing his t-shirt, slowly hiking it up and letting Cas see his torso inch by inch. Castiel’s eyes were dark as they tracked Dean’s movements, and while the action paled in comparison to everything else they’d already done, Dean couldn’t help but think that it was one of the most erotic things he’d seen in his life. Abandoning subtlety, Dean threw the shirt off and moved on to his jeans, unzipping them and sliding out of them, keeping his eyes on Cas’s all the while.

“Dean,” Castiel breathed, and Dean glanced down in momentary confusion. He was wearing pale pink panties, with white lace on the leg holes and a little white bow on the top. Not something he would’ve normally worn, but today, he’d felt like he needed something comforting – besides, he might’ve been cautiously optimistic, somewhere in the back of his mind when he’d left to the Roadhouse.

Castiel stepped closer, lifting a hand to skim the lace and inspecting the panties, and Dean stood up straighter under his attention.

“You’re really wearing them,” Castiel muttered. “You look gorgeous,” Castiel said, and Dean grinned hesitantly. Dean was still feeling a bit nervous, although he knew now that Cas really liked the view.

Castiel gave the panties a playful tug, letting them snap against Dean’s hip, and then stepped backwards again. The commanding smirk was back on his face.

“Go sit on the bed.”

Dean did, swaying hips as he went, and judging by the way Cas’s lips curled, it was appreciated. He sat down on the edge of bed, eagerly looking at Castiel for next instructions. Castiel said nothing; he came to stand in between Dean’s legs, loosening his tie as he went, and tugged it off. Dean licked his lips at the sight – he could think of a few ways to use Cas’s tie.

“Watch,” Castiel murmured, and began to strip. He dropped the tie on the floor, and slowly unbuttoned the rest of his collared shirt. Dean’s heart raced as Cas dropped the shirt – shit, Cas really had thought about this a lot, because he did everything so damn _smoothly_ – and revealed a broad chest with thin hair running here and there. Dean had seen Cas naked lots of times (when you shared a dorm room or lived together, some things were unavoidable), but all of those moments had been stolen glances, secret looks. This, though, this was all for Dean, this was _meant_ for him, and it made his mouth water.

Castiel unzipped his pants and stepped out of them, still looking Dean in the eye whenever he could. He was wearing very plain-looking, boring white boxers, and as if realizing this, he stepped out of them fast and threw them to the side.

Dean didn’t even know where to look first. Castiel was simply gorgeous – strong and lean, not overly muscular but in great shape, and Dean wanted to reach out and touch him everywhere. Castiel’s cock was half-hard, slightly curving to the left, and despite never having blown a guy before, Dean couldn’t wait to try that.

Castiel placed his hand on the side of Dean’s face, gently holding him and rubbing his thumb on Dean’s cheek.

“Now tell me what you want.”

“Cas, I don’t—” Dean didn’t know what to say. “I want you to do everything.”

“Dean,” Cas said, “I told you. Tell me what _you_ want.”

“Fuck,” Dean gasped. “Okay. Okay.” He looked at Castiel’s body, wanting a thousand things all at once, but settled on what had first popped into to his mind.

“Can I blow you?”

Castiel took a sharp breath. “Of course.”

Dean instinctively clasped his hands behind his back and leant forward, prompting a gasp from Castiel as he started to lick up and down Castiel’s length. The bitter taste of salt and what was pure, undiluted Castiel, exploded in Dean’s mouth, and wanting more, he opened his mouth fully and tried to swallow as much as he could. He was careful, trying to think back to what he liked, and slowly started to bob his head up and down. It was a bit awkward, and there was spit everywhere, but judging by Cas’s moans, Dean figured that he wasn’t doing that badly.

“Dean, you can touch me. Use your hands.”

Secretly, Dean was relieved about that, because keeping his hands behind his back might’ve looked good and all, but for a first timer, he felt awkward. Besides, he was aching to get his hands on Cas, and jumped at the chance, letting his palms first rest at those sinful hipbones and then trailing inward. He took what he couldn’t fit in his mouth in his hand, and with his other hand, he started to caress Castiel’s balls, then moved his fingers even lower and pressed a tentative finger against Cas’s perineum.

“Dean, God, ah!” Castiel moaned from above him, and Dean thought that he’d never heard a more beautiful sound. He pressed again, and Cas arched his back, letting out that pretty “ah” sound. Castiel’s hands landed on his head and fingers tangled in his hair, not pulling or pushing, and just remained there as a constant, calming presence.

Dean kept moving his hand and bobbing his head, learning Castiel’s reactions and doing what caused the most vocal gasps again and again. Castiel’s fingers kept momentarily tightening in his hair, but Cas never pulled, and Dean hummed as he thought that maybe he wouldn’t even mind Castiel being rougher, Castiel really pulling his hair and really giving it to him. Dean hummed again, causing Cas to shudder.

“Dean, gah, that’s enough.”

Dean swallowed one more time, getting another one of those wonderful gasps, and then he pulled off of Castiel’s cock and leant back. Castiel was breathing harshly, his fingers twitching in Dean’s hair, and his eyes were now completely dark with lust.

“Was that okay?” Dean couldn’t help but ask.

“Best blowjob I’ve ever had.” Castiel smirked.

“That’s the only blowjob you’ve ever gotten, smartass.”

Castiel leant down and kissed him, messily and hungrily, and Dean let himself be pushed backwards. They toppled down on the bed, and Cas took Dean’s hands and laced their fingers together, before pressing Dean’s hands over his head. Dean moaned through the kiss, opening up under Castiel and letting him tangle their tongues together. Cas retreated, nipping Dean’s bottom lip again, and then suddenly jerked forward with his whole body. They both let out a gasp at that, Dean giving a shout as their cocks pressed together through the cotton panties.

Their groans melted together as they grinded against each other, Castiel’s cock smearing precome all over Dean’s panties, and Dean coating them from the inside. It was a luxurious feeling to have Castiel grind against him, even with the cotton panties starting to chafe, and a constant litany of “uh, uh, uh” escaped Dean’s lips when they pressed together.

Dean almost yelled, “what are you doing!” when Castiel sat up, retreated and caught his breath.

“What else, Dean?” Castiel asked. “What else do you want?”

“Christ,” Dean breathed. He felt like he was already on edge, about to burst, and little shocks of lust constantly snapped through his body. “You could tie me up properly. Or maybe spank me.”

“Dean, I want that too, but…” Cas looked a little embarrassed, suddenly. “We have all the time in the world for that.”

“So you don’t want to—”

“I want to,” Castiel assured him. “I just don’t want to… rush into it. When we both have so little experience.” He started to rub his thumbs on the back of Dean’s hands, and it was such a gentle gesture that Dean automatically calmed down. “And we’ve had an odd start, so I’d like to take this slow.”

“You wanna make love to me, huh?” Dean asked. He said it jokingly, attempting to lighten the mood, but his heart was bursting. Cas was looking at him as if he was something precious, something to cherish, and while Dean wanted everything Cas had ever described to him and more, that moment, just laying in Cas’s arms would’ve been enough.

“Yes,” Cas answered, not missing the way Dean’s eyes had softened.

“Come here, then, you big dork,” Dean snorted. “And fucking make love to me.”

Castiel smiled and kissed Dean again. “Is that what you want?”

“Yeah, you doofus. C’mon, fuck me.”

Dean groaned when Castiel moved downwards, sliding his tongue against Dean’s pulse point, and then suddenly jumping to his right nipple. Dean shouted from a spike of lust and surprise alike when Castiel suddenly closed his teeth around the nipple and gently bit into it.

“You like that,” Castiel noted.

“Fuck yes,” Dean panted. “Gimme more.”

“Is that an order?” Castiel asked, and though Dean couldn’t see it, he could hear the smirk in Cas’s voice.

“Please,” Dean whined. “Please, Cas.”

Castiel obliged, sucking another nipple into his mouth and giving it a sudden tug with his teeth, and Dean ached up on the bed. Grinning against Dean’s skin, Castiel continued the onslaught on his nipples, using his tongue on the other while bringing his hand up to twist the other. Dean cried out, and could feel precome soaking completely through his panties at this point.

“Christ!”

“Lube and condoms?” Castiel asked.

“Middle drawer,” Dean said. He thanked his lucky stars that he’d bought that bottle of lube earlier – who knew it’d come in handy so soon.

Castiel fumbled around for the lube, and Dean took the time to take in how Castiel looked – his hair was a mess, sticking in every direction, and there was a pink blush on his cheeks that brought out his eyes. Dean had seen Cas in diverse situations, but he’d never seen Cas look as good as now.

Castiel grabbed a pillow and tucked it under Dean’s lower back. Dean settled against the pillow and the sheets, and though Cas hadn’t said so, he returned his arms over his head and clasped them together. Castiel smiled approvingly at that, and then opened the bottle of lube. Before he could squirt it on his fingers, he took a look at Dean and said, “Take off your panties.”

“Could you, uh,” Dean licked his lips, “could you maybe… rip them off of me?”

Castiel eyes flashed, and he definitely remembered that one certain text. He dropped the lube on the bed and scrambled to get his hands on the waistband of the panties – Christ, that eagerness was hot – and tugged harshly. It shouldn’t have, but the old fabric gave away and ripped, and the sound of it made Dean’s cock twitch. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was to watch Cas rip a hole in the panties and throw them away, but it made his blood thrum.

“Holy shit, Cas,” Dean said.

“I ruined them,” Cas said, with clear remorse. “I’m sorry.”

“You can pick new ones for me,” Dean said. Castiel’s answer to kiss the breath away from Dean, and he was light-headed when Castiel pulled away.

“Knees up,” Cas said, and then he was squirting lube into his hands and staring at Dean so intently that Dean’s breath hitched. Slowly, Cas brushed one finger against Dean’s entrance, and Dean twitched, but then clasped his hands harder together and focused on staying still. Cas skirted around the rim for a bit, easing Dean into it, and then pushed a finger in.

There was care in Castiel’s motions, and he moved slowly but with a purpose, and though Dean was a little tense, he tried to concentrate on the way Cas moved inside of him – just the thought of it helped him. The fantasy he’d had about this, it couldn’t even compare to the real thing: feeling how careful and loving Cas was made all of Dean’s senses heightened and the experience more powerful. Castiel added another finger, and Dean tensed around his fingers, until he forced himself to relax.

“Dean,” Castiel suddenly said, “Touch yourself.”

Dean unclasped his hands and grabbed his aching cock eagerly, not aiming for precision or subtlety, and started to jack off hard and fast. He was so wet with precome that the slick sounds of that sounded embarrassingly dirty, and Dean arched his back.

“Good, Dean,” Castiel murmured. “Slow down.”

Dean whined, but he slowed down the hand on his cock, and took a shuddering breath as Cas pressed against his walls, trying to locate his prostate. It took a few tries, but the second Cas pressed against it, Dean shouted. Pleasure was suddenly running through his veins, making him forget every bit of discomfort instantly and wish that Cas was inside of him, right now.

“Cas, holy—”

“Stop for a while,” Cas said, and Dean panted, but stopped his hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Go on. Come on, Cas, please.”

“Alright,” Castiel murmured. He withdrew his fingers, wiping them on the sheets, and then took the condom and put it on, Dean’s eyes keenly tracking his movements. Then, he took a hold of Dean’s thighs. Dean attempted to turn over, but Castiel halted his movements.

“I want to see you,” Castiel said. “You okay with that?”

“Yeah, just, c’mon.”

Castiel leant over him, and then started to ease in. Cas was looking down, watching as his cock sunk into Dean, but Dean was looking at Castiel’s face and that utter look of concentration and devotion. When Castiel started to push further in, Dean clamped around him, and Castiel stopped for a moment. He took Dean’s hands in his own, pressing their palms together, and then continued to push in. Dean gasped – he’d fingered himself before, but it had nothing on feeling this full, this great.

“Beautiful,” Cas muttered. “Relax, Dean. You’re doing so well, gorgeous.”

Dean pretended that he didn’t get a little teary-eyed at the endearment, but Cas noticed it anyway. He smiled down at Dean, and leant closer to kiss the tears away from his eyes.

They both gasped when Cas bottomed out, and there was a moment when they just gulped for air and got used to the burning feeling, and then, just like that, it was on. Castiel started to move, encouraging Dean to move against him, and slowly, they tried to find a good rhythm for them both.

“Harder, Cas, please, please—”

Dean’s toes curled against the sheets, and his fingers twitched against Castiel’s hold, attempting to break free, because while it was good, it wasn’t enough, he needed to touch, he needed more—

Dean’s left hand slipped free from Castiel’s, and Dean managed to put it on his cock, but Castiel grabbed it and drew it back.

“Hands to yourself, Dean,” he said, punctuating his words with a harsh pound.

“Yes, sir,” Dean groaned, and that made Cas groan in turn. The rhythm started to change, and they moved faster and harder against each other.

“We should really discuss this, at length.”

“Yeah,” Dean gasped. “At length, sure.”

“Dean, are you listening?”

“Kind of hard to concentrate with you—oh, god!” Dean yelled. “Cas, right there, Cas, god, yes!”

“Touch yourself,” Castiel groaned, freeing Dean’s hands and shifting to lean his weight on his elbows instead. The change in angle was magical, and Dean scrambled to get a hand on himself – he felt pinpricks of pleasure dance all around his body, and it was impossible to keep up with the growing crescendo of rhythm between them. “Come on, Dean, come on, love, come for me, come for me—!”

It was the endearment that did it, and Dean came with a shout, come spilling between them, all over his chest and sticking to Castiel’s stomach. Castiel was still moving, pounding into him and panting harshly, and could barely keep his eyes open.

“Cas,” Dean said, and that was it, Castiel yelled and came. As if there was no more energy left in either of them, Castiel collapsed on top of Dean, and Dean could barely wiggle his arm from between them.

They gasped both for a long, long time, staying still and momentarily drowsing off in the onslaught of endorphins, but finally, Castiel groaned and moved to his side. His cock slipped out of Dean, and Dean felt himself clamping against nothing, already missing Cas’s presence.

“Well,” Dean panted, “that’s a thing that happened.”

Castiel snorted against his collarbone.

 

* * *

 

Though neither of them meant to, the day had been emotionally and physically tasking, and so they fell asleep almost right after they’d calmed down. When Dean woke up, he was disoriented at first and thought that he was having another wonderful dream about Cas and was late from work. When Castiel, snoozing against his chest, didn’t disappear, the reality came rushing back to Dean, and couldn’t help the giddy smile that tugged his lips. He hadn’t seen Castiel asleep in ages – maybe during last New Year, when they’d all collapsed in a pile on Charlie’s mattress? – and Dean took it as a privilege. The lines and angles on Cas’s face seemed smoother when he was asleep, making him not younger, but perhaps softer, giving him a different glow. Dean stared at Castiel, and couldn’t understand how he’d denied himself this for so long.

He then thought that there would hopefully be ample opportunities to wake up next to Cas in the future.

Dean shifted, trying to sit up, but Castiel only held him tighter and mumbled something in his sleep. Resigned, Dean stayed still for a while longer, but when he glanced at the bedside clock and saw that they’d been asleep for almost an hour, he nudged Cas.

“Hey, wake up.”

Castiel muttered, “No.”

“C’mon, grumpy,” Dean said. “Get off of me.”

“Never,” Castiel muttered against his neck, and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Dean snorted, and patted Castiel’s bed head.

“We both need a shower. We’re disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“That’s what I just said. C’mon, I’m not sleeping in this mess.”

It took a bit of coaxing, but just like Dean, when Castiel realized that he wasn’t dreaming and Dean wasn’t going to disappear, he finally opened his eyes and let go of Dean. He rolled to his side and let Dean slip away from the bed, although Dean could feel him tracking Dean’s movements. Dean stretched, wincing when he stood up – he wasn’t in pain, but he could still feel a pressure in his ass, reminding him what they’d been doing earlier.

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked, sitting up.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Just… I can still feel you.”

Castiel didn’t blush easily, but now a slight pink color spread on his cheeks, to Dean’s delight. He grinned at Castiel.

“Oh,” Cas coughed. Then he smiled. “You like it?”

Dean just winked at him, and went to rummage through his drawer for acceptable clothes. He finally gave up and just chose an old t-shirt and grey lounge pants, and then attempted to find something for Castiel.

Cas hadn’t moved from the bed when Dean finally straightened and held up the clothes. Their eyes met, and Cas looked away, and then Dean suddenly understood the problem.

“You know, we could conserve water,” Dean said.

“We could?”

“By… you know, showering at the same time. Together.”

Castiel looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded. “The earth will thank us, I’m sure.”

They didn’t discuss it, but when Dean pulled Cas into the shower stall behind him, there was nothing lustful or urgent in the air between them. Even though it was a tight fit and they constantly bumped into each other as they turned to put the water on and fetch the soap, the way they leaned against each other wasn’t sexual – just tentative and content. Dean pulled Cas closer by the neck, kissing him softly, and then grabbed the soap and started to carefully lather him, running the soap all over his shoulders and chest, then dipping around to the back.

Castiel hummed as Dean washed him, leaning against Dean almost sleepily, and kissed Dean’s cheek when he finished. Castiel took the soap wordlessly from Dean, and returned the favor, spending so much time on Dean’s shoulders and back that it resembled more a massage than a wash. Dean sighed happily and let Cas do as he pleased, because the gentle touches and the warm water felt amazing.

When Cas finally retreated, Dean had to force his eyes open, feeling drowsy. He found Castiel looking at him.

“Hi,” Dean said.

“Hello,” Castiel said, with a smile.

“This is kind of awesome.”

“I’m sure Mother Earth agrees.”

Dean hummed, and then reached for the shampoo bottle. Castiel stopped him, taking the bottle from Dean’s hand.

“But I should wash my hair,” Dean said.

“Let me,” Cas murmured, and Dean couldn’t help but nod. Dean let his hands fall to his sides, and just enjoyed the water thrumming against his shoulders and Cas’s nimble fingers moving on his scalp. Castiel was careful here, just like he was with everything else, and again, the wash became more like a massage, not that Dean had anything against that. When Cas finished and drew his hands away, Dean instinctively chased after him, making Castiel laugh.

“Your fingers are magic, man,” Dean said, embarrassed about his reaction. “Magic fingers?”

Castiel shook his head, and opened the shampoo bottle again, but Dean stopped him.

“Let me,” Dean said, and with a smile, Castiel conceded. Dean tried to be as gentle as Cas had been while he washed Castiel’s hair, and judging by the sighs Cas let out, he succeeded in that. Dean lingered a long time on his temples, not that there was anything to wash there, but because that made Castiel close his eyes and hum with contentment.

They finally turned the shower off when the water started to turn cold (Dean’s building manager wouldn’t be happy if this became a regular thing). Dean took his usual towel and threw it on his shoulders, and then took an extra towel from the drawer under the sink; good thing that he kept a spare there.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, and when Cas turned around, Dean threw the towel around him and pulled Cas close with it. Castiel’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t stop Dean, and instead, reached for Dean’s towel as well. Slowly and in silence, they dried each other off.

Although it felt like entire days had passed since this morning, it was only early Saturday evening when they emerged from the shower. Neither had eaten since the morning, and Dean suggested that they eat something when they returned to the bedroom to change. Castiel nodded, but didn’t continue the discussion, more concerned with locating his boxers. They’d been kicked somewhere in the heat of the moment, and Dean patiently waited as Cas roamed around the room.

When Cas finally located his boxers, he didn’t put them on right away, clinging to his towel. Dean sighed, and turned to his pile of clothes, muttering over his shoulder, “C’mon, Cas, I wanna get some grub.”

“Um.”

Dean turned around, and then understood Castiel’s reluctance. Cas had dropped the towel and was discreetly trying to put on his boxers, but he was half-hard and frozen in place as he watched Dean, and Dean prancing around naked wasn’t going to help with that.

Dean grinned. He wasn’t going to say no to this development, not while they were both still energetic and awake and had to catch up on years of missed sex.

“I can think of a few ways to get rid of that,” Dean said, eyes honing in on Cas’s cock.

“You don’t have to—”

“Cas, how many times do I have to say, ‘fuck yes’, before you catch on?”

Castiel snorted. He let go of the boxers and let them fall to the ground. “Fine. What did you have in mind?”

Dean walked closer and kissed Cas. Castiel answered it, and they lingered on the kiss for a minute, before Dean pulled away enough to say, “I wanna blow you.”

Cas blinked. “You already did.”

“What, like one time is enough to last you for the rest of our lives?”

Castiel squinted his eyes. “Don’t threaten me, _boy_.”

“Definitely not a threat,” Dean swallowed. Damn, Cas looked good with that commanding tone.

“Alright,” Cas said.

“And could you, maybe…” Dean shifted. “Push me around? And, um, keep, keep me in place? Be a little rougher?”

Castiel just stared at him for a while, wheels visibly turning in his head, and then went to grab a pillow from the bed. Dean was confused for a second, before Cas dropped it on the floor and gestured Dean closer.

“On your knees,” Cas said, and Dean instantly dropped. He wasn’t hard, not yet, but his heart was starting to hammer, and warmth was spreading all over his body.

Cas lifted a hand to touch Dean’s face – Dean was starting to realize that that might’ve been one of Cas’s favorite things to do – and tilted his chin up with firm fingers. Cas hadn’t told him to, but this time, Dean put his hands behind his back, took a hold of his wrist and left them there.

Cas smiled at that. “Good,” he said, and satisfaction radiated through Dean. “If you need to slow down or stop at any time, tap my hip, okay?”

“Of course,” Dean mumbled, already slipping into some kind of trance. He let Cas tilt his head back, and opened his mouth when Cas’s thumb grazed his lips. Cas’s hands settled on his head, holding him much firmer in place than last time, and Dean instantly liked the pressure of it.

Cas started slowly, mindful of Dean’s position, and gave Dean time to get used to the feeling. Dean let Cas push in and out in small movements, until he pushed further in. Dean licked and sucked on Cas’s length, loving the different sounds he could pull from Cas. The hold on his head got tighter, and though his hair was too short to be pulled like he really wanted, Cas’s fingers threaded with what they could.

“Dean,” Cas breathed, “you feel so good. You’re… god, you’re amazing.”

Cas’s rhythm quickened, and he started to fuck in and out, not letting Dean do much else but to stay in place and take it. The thought of that sent shivers down his spine, and Dean groaned, concentrating on the way Cas held him.

“You like that?” Cas asked, and Dean opened his eyes to find Cas staring hungrily at him. Dean swallowed around Cas’s cock as an answer, making Cas gasp. “God, Dean… You look so good right now. You’re doing so well.”

Dean didn’t feel like he deserved praise like that, but it was kind of hard to disagree, what with Cas picking up the rhythm again. Dean only needed to concentrate on breathing and letting Cas use him like that, and for whatever screwed up reason, that made fire thrum in his veins. Then, as if to counter that, Cas slowed down, and Dean’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Eyes on me,” Cas said, and Dean’s eyes snapped open. “Good,” Cas said, and the warmth that had spread all over Dean seemed to center in his heart. “You can use your hands, if you like.”

Dean hesitated, but then kept his hands clasped behind his back. Cas nodded, visibly making a mental note of some sort, and then slowed his movements to a minimum. That was a signal to Dean to get on with it, and he started to lick and suck Cas, using every bit of knowledge of Cas he’d learned so far.

“Dean,” Cas moaned, sounding awed.

Dean started to hum, and that was all she wrote; Castiel gasped, held on to Dean’s hair so tightly that it sent shocks of pain-pleasure through Dean’s body, and then suddenly came. It wasn’t the first time Dean had tasted semen – what, he’d been curious as a teenager – but the flavor still caught him by surprise, and he couldn’t decide did he like it or not. What he liked was the way Cas folded over him, clinging to Dean’s head and stuttered for breath.

“Dean,” Cas said as he pulled out, “thank you.”

Dean flushed, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but Cas dropped to his knees and kissed Dean. The realization that Cas could taste himself in Dean’s mouth made Dean moan, and Cas only kissed him deeper.

When they parted, Cas grinned. “Correction: _that’s_ the best blowjob I’ve ever had.”

“Your sampling is still seriously lacking, man,” Dean laughed.

“Yes, well,” Cas said, “we’re going to need a lot more practice, then.”

“A lot more practice,” Dean agreed. Castiel hummed, stroking Dean’s cheek.

“How’re you feeling?”

“My jaw’s tired,” Dean noted. That was a weird feeling; his tongue and jaw ached a bit, but otherwise, he felt great. He was still strung up, since he hadn’t come yet, but he wasn’t desperate for it.

“But mine isn’t,” Cas said, and Dean’s heart leaped. “Get on the bed, on your stomach.”

“Cas, what.” Dean took a breath. This sequence of events was starting to remind more than closely one of their recent texts. “Really?”

“On your stomach,” Castiel repeated, and Dean scrambled to obey. He didn’t know what was coming (well, hopefully, _he_ was), but he couldn’t wait for whatever Cas came up with.

“I want to try something,” Cas said, and Dean interrupted:

“Whatever it is, I’m so on board.”

Cas chuckled. “Dean, you don’t even know what I was about to say.”

“Then surprise me.” There was a silence. “Please?”

“As you wish.”

Cas sat down on his legs, and when Dean wouldn’t settle, Cas chided him with a soft slap to his side. Dean gulped and stayed perfectly still after that, thinking that they really needed to talk more about this… _thing_ and what exactly they both wanted, because Dean wouldn’t have minded a spanking from Cas.

Dean jolted out of his thoughts when he felt Cas hover over his ass, and then the first touch on his hole. That wasn’t a finger, that was… Dean jolted again, and then gasped, when Cas’s tongue slowly started to circle his rim.

“Is this okay?” Cas asked, drawing back, and Dean wanted that damn mouth back on his ass, right now.

“God, yes,” Dean panted. He was taking back every word he’d ever said about rimming being gross, because Cas was quickly proving that what he’d written could feel just as good in reality.

Castiel didn’t do things by halves. He was as curious about rimming Dean as Dean was about getting rimmed, and experimented with different flicks and movements of his tongue and what kind of reactions they could draw out of Dean. He licked the rim, flicked his tongue inside, and made Dean melt against the sheets with the smallest touch.

“Come on, Dean,” Castiel muttered against his skin, “let go. Let me hear you.”

Dean panted, and then did just that: when Cas sucked on his hole, Dean couldn’t have even tried to hold back the sounds that were punched out of him. That only encouraged Cas, and Dean didn’t think anything had ever felt as weirdly awesome as having Cas fuck him with his tongue.

Dean came without a warning, the force of it taking him by surprise and making him yell. He moaned when Cas gave his ass one last kiss, and then withdrew.

“We’re definitely doing that again,” Dean panted.

“Agreed,” Castiel said, and he sounded as wrecked as Dean felt.

Cas crawled up on the bed next to Dean, and Dean turned on to his side to face Cas. They didn’t kiss – because as amazing as that had been, Cas had still had his mouth on Dean’s asshole, ugh – and instead, they spent a moment just staring at each other, enjoying the afterglow.

“Goddamn,” Dean breathed. “Christ, Cas, I can’t tell how happy I am that none of those dates I set you up on ever worked out.”

“You’re happy… that my romantic life is non-existent?”

“ _Was_ ,” Dean said. “I hope?”

“Was,” Castiel agreed. He trailed his fingers on Dean’s chest, absently flicking a nipple. It made Dean gasp, but Cas passed them over after that, and started to write something against his skin. Dean couldn’t make out what.

“You set me up with a lot of women, though,” Castiel said.

It was weird to talk about this, but Dean supposed that Cas had a point. They should talk about it and be honest, before they ended up in a similar situation they’d been locked in for years.

“You pushed me into dating,” Castiel added.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered. “I don’t know. Guess I was trying to get over you. Push you away.” He locked his eyes with Cas. “It hurt like hell, though. Watching you with others.”

“It wasn’t that great for me, either,” Cas muttered. “Please don’t misunderstand me; those weren’t all bad experiences, and I think it gave me some social confidence.” His fingers had stopped their dance on Dean’s skin, but now they started again. “It wasn’t going to work out with anyone, though. None of them were you.”

Dean swallowed. “You said you’d… for years.”

They were both skirting around the right words, but Dean didn’t want to be the one to pull them to light. He’d messed up enough already, and besides, even with fifteen years of friendship under their belt, their relationship was too new and fragile for that.

“That’s just an estimate,” Cas said.

“What do you mean?”

Castiel hummed. “I don’t know when it happened, not exactly. It’s been so gradual, over the years, that I can’t tell you what was the tipping point.”

Dean felt like his heart was burning, and he blinked to stop whatever wetness was going on in his eyes.

“Me, too,” Dean whispered.

Castiel touched his cheek, and the touch told Dean everything neither could yet put into words.

 

* * *

 

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Cas and Dean continued to text throughout the days, although this time, using their personal cells, and using much tamer language than before – in fact, it was downright mushy, and Dean couldn’t have been happier. They continued to have silly arguments via texts, and shared their thoughts during the day, although now they were less about the kinky stuff and more in the vein of, “saw this cat and thought of you.” (There were still kinky texts, here and there, but by silent mutual agreement, those were cut to a minimum.) Dean got to see Cas every day, too, since Cas came over to his apartment after work, or vice versa. Although they didn’t always spend the nights together, it was still better than any other relationship Dean had ever had. They both had agreed that they wanted to take it slow, after that huge jumpstart, and kept things pretty innocent. There were still lengthy cuddling marathons, heavy make-out sessions that made Dean constantly remark that they were like teenagers in that regard, and whispered dirty promises, but all in all, it was much tamer than anything they’d done before. Although they both still wanted to continue exploring the kinkier side of their relationship, for now, it felt good to just enjoy each other’s company and let things transition from being friends to being a couple.

Since Charlie already knew about their relationship fumbling, they both felt it was unnecessary to keep their relationship a secret, even if it was a new one. After all, they’d kind of been going out for almost a month before finally getting together, so introducing this change felt long overdue. So, one Friday, they arrived to Roadhouse Bar & Grill hand in hand. Even if Dean had been afraid of the reactions and was still unsure about how to present their relationship in public, Cas looked untouchable. Castiel looked happy and proud, not a bit afraid, and that gave Dean confidence in turn.

“Oh my god,” Sarah said. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Told ya,” Charlie said. “Pay up.”

“You’re finally dating?” Sam asked, a huge smile on his face.

“Everyone,” Castiel coughed, “I’d like you to meet my boyfriend. I suspect you already know him.”

Dean snorted. “Hi, everyone. I’m Dean, and this is Cas. He’s a dork.” He turned to Castiel, beaming. “He’s also my boyfriend.”

“It _is_ true!” Sarah called. “I’m so happy for you guys. Finally, you’ve been dancing around each other for years.”

“What, hey, wait,” Dean said. “It hasn’t been… years…”

“It kind of has,” Castiel mumbled.

“Fine, so it’s been for years,” Dean said. “What, you all noticed?”

“Duh,” Charlie said. “Did you really think I’d hang out this much with an all-straight group?”

“Dean, I’ve always thought you have a crush on Cas. Ever since you brought him home during your first Christmas break in college,” Sam said.

“Seriously?” Dean cringed.

“When I first met Castiel, you introduced him as if he’d hung the moon,” Sarah reminded him.

Fine, it was official. Dean had the worst gaydar in the history of mankind. If his 100 per cent straight brother and sister-in-law had seen what he hadn’t seen…

“You’re all awful,” Dean grumbled, but Cas was outright grinning. He didn’t seem one bit bothered that all the others had noticed their on-going romance before them, and gently tugged Dean with him. They sat down, so close in the booth that their thighs and shoulders were touching.

“So, Dean, now that Cas has finally entered a relationship,” Charlie said, “I think I remember you saying something about taking up crocheting?”

Castiel snorted. Dean rolled his eyes and reached to his pocket, pulling out something.

“Way ahead of you, kiddo,” he said. He threw a headband at Charlie, who snatched it eagerly from air. It had several visible mistakes, but it definitely was a wearable headband with crude little flowers on it, and embroidered in the front was, “Queen of Moondoor”. “You’re obligated to wear that, you know.”

Charlie grinned, delighted. “I most certainly will!”

“When it inevitably falls apart, feel free to ask him for another one,” Cas said. “He’s been making those nonstop.”

“I’m going to knit you a thong, if you don’t shut up,” Dean muttered.

“I wouldn’t be the one using that,” Cas said with a smirk.

“Pass the brain bleach, please,” Sam groaned, and that moment, everything looked as it usually did on any other Friday night for them.

Dean was just holding Castiel’s hand under the table, and indefinitely happier than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr, [here](http://justkeeponwriting.tumblr.com) or [here](http://helakkas.tumblr.com), if you want to drop a message. Thank you for reading! <3


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